


Cold-Blooded

by angstrlisity (BJW), KazRed



Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: AU, Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arkhamverse/New-52 Jason Todd, Comic Spoilers, Drama, F/M, Game Spoilers, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Platonic Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BJW/pseuds/angstrlisity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazRed/pseuds/KazRed
Summary: When a Meta-Human with a heavy grudge joins Scarecrow's side, the Arkham Knight finds himself promising the inevitable when the time comes to pass. Dark secrets call for a stronger alliance, but the Knight is made to wonder why. Why must she cling like the fears of his darkened past? Why does she understand...why he is who he is? Will he let his scars take control?This story takes place during and after the events of Batman: Arkham Knight in a slightly alternate universe, where we follow broken mercenaries trying to find their place in the world. But even when the nightmare is over, Alias has her own war to fight after she's been given the task of eradicating Syndicate, the people who destroyed her life and changed her forever. After meeting new friends and finding old ones, will the Knight join her battle or will they lose themselves to the chaos?





	1. Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> A/N TAKEN FROM FF: I won't ramble too much since this story won't have another disclaimer or AN unless necessary, but I dearly thank the support that I'm getting considering this is my first arkhamverse fic. It's not a lot but it's a start.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: WARNING - SPOILERS! Set during the events of Arkham Knight, following the ambiguous antagonist of the game since we don't get much of that (and also because I couldn't fit this in the summary). I do not own any characters except for those unfamiliar with.
> 
> EDIT II: Still can't believe this fic was created out of sheer love for Jason and scraps of ideas on the potential story. I'm talking about 3 years ago. 3 years ago, I fell in love with this man so much I wanted to write a fic about him. And I did. You're welcome.
> 
> EDIT III: I've curated a playlist~! Slightly rushed but it acts as a conduit for the elements of the story, from the action and fighting to the angst and grief. More songs will be added but for now you can visit it here (I know, issa long link and idk how to hyperlink on this site) → https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKjm9tdCE1Y&list=PLPXXYCaLYPt-iAnqFVKQ1gIn1KgmdN31-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pink-haired mercenary finds herself captured by none other than Scarecrow’s men but, rather than initiate a formal relationship with the man in charge, she instead meets the man whose identity is cast in pixels.

All 5 guns were trained on her, ready to fire if she moved a hefty inch, two of those guns were a rifle with enough power to rip her head and shoulders to shreds. But not even the threat of death could wipe that glossy smile off her face. It was seductive, yet predatory. It asked for more, but only for those that could handle her. And 13 well-trained militia found out the truth. Limb locks, pressure points or simply heavy trauma to their head or spine brought their lives to a halt, and most of the guys she faced were equipped with blades and assaults. Talk about poorly executed.

“Look, boys, I’m sorry about what happened to your friends,” she spoke with the calming force of a British blizzard. “But if you want to kill me, at least be men and pull the trigger. Pointing guns at me does not reinforce your masculinity…if you even have one.”

“Quiet, lady,” one of them spoke threateningly, pressing the nuzzle of his assault to her temple, but instead of a whimper he received a chuckle in return.

“You really want to play it rough? I don’t think you know you’re messing with, rather nice-smelling man. There’s no windows in this room, and the door is locked from the outside…”

“What the? How do you know that? You can’t even see.”

“Maybe. But everything has a temperature, and everything and everybody in this room has a temperature different to mine, so I don’t have to see it to know it’s there. Call it an alternate perception of the sort.”

“Are you threatening me?

“Please. It wasn’t even my best. But since you asked so nicely…” The man that held the cold weapon to her temple looked around him as freezing winds gradually cycloned around the woman’s seat, the rest of the men realising that it was snowing. Inside the room. Just as one was about to fire, ice crawled up the rifle and shattered in moments and it wasn’t long before everyone else’s firearms did the same. “I make sure you regret even touching me.”

“How the hell is she doing that?!”

“She’s a Meta...crap!”

“Get her to stop, man!”

“Too late. I’m bored now.” She broke free thanks to the element freezing the restraints keeping her tied to the chair and, with remarkable speed, floored three men in seconds, her movements leaving a wispy trail where the hands were. The other two, who had to take a moment to realise what happened, began to adapt to the situation by transferring their bodies into a fighting stance; feet spaced apart, fists up to shield their face, knees slightly bent. But the woman sighed as she straightened up from resting on one knee, turning around to face her remaining opponents, blindfolded and without the need to place her body in such position. 

“Surprising. I thought a blinded hostage would be easy to apprehend…” She dodged a left hook and countered by grabbing the arm that shot out at her and pulled him towards her, her shoulder slamming into the militia’s bulletproof vest with enough force to launch him off his feet and slam into the far wall. “But since this has become an impossible situation, it seems like you’re wasting time rather than making me wait for some man in a mask.” The last man standing went for a low kick but she blocked with her own and spun around, executing a mid kick that forced him back a step, but she wasn’t done yet. The woman launched forward and went for focused hits, every strike sending a shockwave of ice into his vest and, when she felt it consume the entire garment, a more stronger punch burst the vest to glassy fragments.

“Huh―?!” The militia didn’t have time to blurt out his sentence because she booted him into the nearest wall and, while he was doubled over to recover, axe-kicked the back of his head and heard bones crack on impact with the floor.

“Huh. Man in a mask…” Her hand reached off to whip the blindfold off her face, revealing her cloudy, lilac eyes, before throwing it onto the floor and sauntering to the door. “Batman better not be rescuing me.” Reaching it, she snatched the dark grey half hoodie off a hook and slipped it on before tilting her head at the obstacle in front of her.

“She’s in this room.”

“She took out five guys, they’re all down.”

“Boss says to shoot her on sight.”

“Really? And just when things were getting better…” The woman snapped her palms and a barrage of ice zoomed through the steel door, impaling the figures outside and she smiled hearing them collapse onto the ground. “Now, if I can find who came to kidnap me and beat his ass, then maybe I’ll feel better.” Finally regaining her composure, she put a frozen index to the door and traced its shape, pushing it gently when she was finished to have it give way for her. With an approved hum, she stepped on the door, and the bodies under it, and quickly scanned her surroundings before blasting into a bolt down the corridor. 

She’s been here before, an abandoned 4-star hotel after the owner lost touch with the business with profits plummeting into the darkened abyss. One hell of a place to train, though, especially the grand hall where the guests would meet up for...something. She didn’t know, she wasn’t familiar with the arts of a 4-star hotel.

The grand hall. Just had to take a left and…she almost stopped when two militia that stood watch had a gun pointed at her, but when she cover-rolled, during the motion, she casted a sheet of ice over the worn-out carpet and giggled at the pathetic sight of the two trying to gain their footing on ice. 

“Here,” the woman spoke to herself as she dove through the top window to the grand hall, moving into a swift sideflip to daintily land on her feet and let out a sharp but relaxed exhale. She decided it was time to flick her hair out of her hoodie with a sassy hand, which was an unusual colour like her eyes, but couldn’t help but let a softer, more flirtatious smile creep onto her freckled face. Definitely not Batman, that’s for sure. “Well, hello, my Arkham-wearing...saint of some sort. Who wields awesome guns and has the body of...a god.”

Whoever stood several tens of metres in front of her  donned a futuristic version of what the rest of the militia wore in this place, accents of red streaking along his clothing and a sagging utility belt, with a streamlined, bat-eared helmet that blurred out his identity, and a chestplate that resembled the Arkham symbol. His gun didn’t waver as he stepped forward once, his steps almost soundless. She glared at his feet for a brief moment; he was being careful, light-footed. The militia weren’t even close. This must be their leader. Only problem was that brief moment ended up with him pulling the trigger.

And in that brief moment, she almost lost her guard. Thankfully her defence mechanism froze the bullet before it reached her, bouncing off her chest before clattering to the ground encased in tinted ice. 

**“Keep your eyes on me,”** he spoke firmly, the helmet tuning his voice with a demonic hum. 

She flipped up her palms, “Remember you just tried to kill me.”

**“I know who you are. Might not be on the database, but you’re there… Alias.”**

“Still not dropping the fact you tried to kill me, but as least someone knows who I am. Really hate being called ‘woman’ and ‘lady’. Oh, and don’t even get me started on ‘sweetie’.”

**“You’re a Meta Mercenary, specialised in stealth. You’re known not to leave behind any trace, since your manipulation in ice and infrared perception allows you to have control of any situation. Like this one. I bet you’re memorising my body heat, how much I’m exerting.”**

“I won’t lie, it’s what I do. But less about me, I want to know about you…” Alias began to stroll up to him carefully, watching his trigger finger tighten slightly but didn’t attempt to stop. “Yeah. You’re intriguing. I bet someone fed you to a pack of wolves and you came back drenched in their blood. Don’t worry…I did too. So tell me…” She stopped when the nuzzle was at her neck. “Who are you?”

**“They call me the Arkham Knight.”**

She chuckled, “Cute name…but I’ve heard that every villain here’s launching a mass attack against Batman, with Scarecrow leading the charge, am I correct?”

**"You're not mistaken."**

"Then I want in. Like everyone else, I have a thing against him, and I want to make sure...the last time I see him, is on his deathbed."

**"Didn't think you were a grudge-holding type."**

"Didn't think you'd psychologically attack Batman, but I guess we all got surprises."

**"How did―"**

"The ears, for a start...the fact you have bat ears and wielding guns is making Batman think...who did I have to break to cause such a scar? Who did I leave behind that he's forgetting his own sense of morality?"

**"You don't know me."**

"Maybe not, Knight, but if I manage to persuade Scarecrow I'll know more than you..." Her palm encircled the barrel of the gun as she leaned in close to where his ear would be. "So promise we'll meet again. Everyone else is boring." And just like that, Alias let go of his gun and turned around before silently walking off and flicking her hair once again. And that was when he watched her use her power, her hands surrounded by an icy mist as a glacier shot her into the air, the Meta Mercenary vanishing through the cracked window a second later and the Arkham Knight put his iron sight down. 

"That, was Alias?" Someone had asked him through his mask, the Knight sliding his pistol into the empty holster.

**"Yeah. I thought they were rumours but..."**

"She proves to be a valuable ally."

**"And a pain in my ass."**

"We must be prepared to adapt to changing situations, Knight. We shall see what she is planning to do, but for now, keep an eye on her."

**"Understood."**


	2. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With another encounter with the Arkham Knight, Alias couldn't help herself but get herself caught, again, but for reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here, I couldn't help myself. Another chapter yay cx still can't believe that I've gotten kudos already (gon make me tear up man) so thank you for reading and I hope you guys continue to support Cold-Blooded. We've got a long way to go~!

She stood cross-armed on a vantage point that overlooked the well-guarded control tower in Founder's Island that had been built 20 minutes ago, mentally marking the number of armed men that held their post and wandered around in directed paths to ensure that security was kept at a constant. The calm before the storm; her rosy lips stretched into a subtle smile.  
  
Not anymore.  
  
Targeting her closest enemy, she sprung forward and moved, at what most spectators would say the speed of light, directly towards her target and brought him down easily by pushing all the momentum she picked up onto his back and using him as a human surfboard for a second. The sound of impact was loud enough to be heard by any one of his allies that were close enough so she kept moving, keeping low and passing them undetected.  
  
Whilst two black-clad militia went to check out their unconscious friend, the woman was already up the stairs and sneaking behind an unfortunate guy leisurely passing the control room door who wasn't going to know what hit him. Literally. When she knew she was in close proximity she kicked the back of his knee and brought her hand to his neck, transferring his entire body onto her shoulders like some sort of rack; he kicked and choked against her chokehold, and she rolled her eyes as she flipped him over her and slammed a knee into his face. "You’re too loud."  
  
Bullets flew past her and she looked up, another militia attempting to fire at her despite his rapid heartbeat that was sending his aim all over the place. She'd give him points for trying, though. "B-boss! She's here!"  
  
"And you're boring," she replied as she dove for him, jumping so that she trapped his body in a octopus hold with her legs and reached for the furthest arm. He must've thought it was some sort of wrestling match because he tapped her arm persistently, but she didn't care and heaved his shoulder out of place with the crack sounding heavy and sickening. She let him drop to the floor an unconscious mess and shrugged her hoodie back in place, almost crying out in shock when strong arms curled around her body and swept her off her feet. Alias fought against their strength, wanting to break out of the submission hold by using the wall beside her, but her attacker must’ve seen through her tactic because they moved her away. But then she chuckled. “You...underestimate me…”  
  
She timed three counts before kicking both legs off the floor, an ice wall magically appearing in front of her as well as behind them, and she forcefully pushed against the wall in front. Her attacker lost balance and slammed into their own wall, the force enough to loosen the hold and the Meta didn’t waste time as she swung her legs over, crossed them over their head and flung her upper body down. She let inertia and gravity run its course as they both went pinwheeling down the stairs and onto the floor, with Alias the fastest to recover as she rolled onto her feet. “Oh~,” she smirked, elongating the word when her eyes fell upon the Arkham Knight who was just getting off the floor, and the ice walls collapsed into tiny shards. “So it’s you...surprising.”  
  
**“You’ve got a bad habit of fighting my militia, lady,”** he snapped back coldly, the lips hidden underneath stretching to a cocky smirk when he watched her face stiffen up before relaxing just as fast.  
  
“You have a bad habit of trying to be intimidating. Besides, I wasn’t done taking out your guys. I have 4 left. Would you let me finish?”  
  
**“No.”** Alias flipped back and landed on one knee as she dodged his customised grappling hook, gathering the cold around her to form a shield as he repeatedly fired at her.  
  
“You want to kill me. Again. Are you that persistent?” She leapt back onto her feet to shake the mild trauma off her right arm, using a quick hand to strip off her hoodie and dash it aside to display her well-endowed figure but the Arkham wasn’t close to fazed as he had been watching the spilling light-violet snakes for a while now, and she spun it above her head before cracking it. A whip made of tinted ice, its idle motions possessing the realism of a normal whip. He wondered how adept she was in using ice. Could she freeze a city? A nation? Nevermind, he didn’t want to be there to witness it. “I’ll give you a shot, Knight. Don’t waste it.”  
  
Without warning, she sprinted flat out towards him, ready to unleash her subtle might, but slowed in her tracks as she felt something overwhelm her senses. There was another Meta in the area, an unidentifiable one, someone she seemed to have come across during her stay here. They’d managed to brush past her, but now she caught onto their scent. The whip had dissipated into frost and the Arkham Knight grunted in triumph, finding an advantage quicker than he imagined.  
  
He landed a heavy punch on her cheek and her head recoiled on impact, the Meta Mercenary peering at him before stealing one of his guns and shooting his head but realised she missed completely as he tilted his head to the side. He copied her and used his other pistol, finding her also avoiding the bullet but she flicked the weapon out his hand and served him a boot to the stomach, the Knight meeting the wall adjacent to the stairs with a harsh thud. Letting out a breath, he instinctively blocked a couple alternating straight punches and ducked a spinning roundhouse, Alias’s movement speed gaining with every attack they performed. She had found an opening and dragged him towards her, using his momentum to backflip off the wall and, once she came down, capturing him in an inverted chokehold.  
  
**“Nice,”** he commented on her fighting style, holding onto her shoulder with a gloved hand. **“Although, I think your technique lacks something.”** She widened her eyes and noticed her mistake; he brought his foot up and pushed off the vertical surface, holding her arm as his world turned, and dragged her across his body with small effort. She bounced on the constructed rooftop and coughed on the last few tumbles, finding the Arkham Knight holding her tight by the throat, and she glanced up at him. **“Well, don’t you look so weak down there.”**  
  
“Having fun, are we?” She smiled, tensing up slightly when he reached behind him and took out a portable syringe filled with a honey-brown serum, but just by looking at it she knew exactly what it was. The fear toxin, made to cause severe psychological trauma to its victims and permanent damage if too much was consumed. But Alias didn’t shy away from the needle as he stabbed it into her neck, and the wave of sudden searing pain washed over her, her muscles locking together and her teeth barring out of reflex.  
  
**“Scarecrow wants to talk, but I didn’t think you’d simply waltz in and remember the location.”** Dark brown veins popped up under her freckled face and danced down her neck, her hands clamping onto his own in an attempt to free herself even though she knew she couldn’t.  
  
“You...really are...intriguing…”Alias faintly breathed out as her hand reached out for his masked face, and blacked out in the next moment with her risen head and hand falling limp onto the cold floor, and the Knight brought a hand up to his ear.  
  
**“Alias is down. Calling for extraction.”**  
  
“Sir.”

  
  
*****

  
Blindfolded and tied up, again.  
  
She had regained consciousness faster than she thought, since it did take her some time to freeze the fear toxin that poisoned her blood, but she kept quiet as the sound of conversation spurred her attention. It was funny, though, since she knew exactly where she was even though she’s never been here. Judging by the temperature, she’d guess the run-down mall on Founders’. Somewhere above ground level, anyway. Ground level and below was actually warmer by a few digits, maybe they're planning something under all that rubble and dirt. But there were a couple things that ticked her off.  
  
The first thing was the childish, suggestive sniggering that echoed around her; three armed men with all of them somewhat excited. This was a first, usually most people that tie her up intend on killing her. “I still can't believe the boss gave us the keys to the room,” the one behind her spoke up, placing his firearm on the floor. Biggest mistake in the presence of a mercenary. The second thing was when one of them decided it was okay to grab her by the neck to establish his dominance, and brought his face extremely close to hers. “In this room, sweetheart...you listen to me.”  
  
“Charming. But you're not my type.” Alias smiled and the militia chuckled before striking her face with a hard slap, the other two sounding amused at the display. The Meta kept quiet, regaining control of her head and neck as she straightened up, but what happened after was the last strike. One of the men from behind held her in her chair by the shoulders while another confronted her, leaned forward and began stroking her inner thighs. That was the third thing.  
  
“It's a shame, though,” the man in front told her. “All these dirty things I wanna do, and can do, but you're sitting here. Defenceless.”  
  
Alias tilted her head, “So, you don't know who I am?”  
  
“What―”  
  
“Good. That means I get to kill you.” Alias snapped her leg into his knee with strength enough to shatter his kneecap and the militia screamed in twisted agony as he instantly dropped to the floor. She waited for the other two to respond to either her or their friend crying and clutching their now broken knee, and guessed correctly at their tactic. One tried grabbing for her hair but she rolled forward, her icy aura freezing the chair and therefore having it break apart, and dusted herself off casually. “You're first,” she told him, indicating her target by pointing her manicured finger, and stepped back. The militia let out a worried sound as she had left her frozen afterimage in her place and she was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Crap! Where did she―” It was quick. Unexpected. His head left his body as a katana made of ice sliced through his neck entirely. The spray of blood did not only decorate the floor in red, but added a gory glisten to the bladed weapon. His sentence would now stay unfinished, in eternity, as the Meta Mercenary let his corpse slump to the cold floor. His head, however, was used as a distraction as a reverse roundhouse sent it flying to the fit militia. He had caught it out of reflex and let it slip from his hands, nothing but this cold sensation run through him. Not in fear. In anger.  
  
He drew out his gun out of instinct, for the Arkham Knight trained him if a circumstance like this were to arise. And it did. Only he made the greatest mistake of taking his eyes off her and became a sudden platform for her to roll off, and let out a gut-wrenching scream as she had driven her sword through his right thigh in a diagonal cut. It wasn’t long before the door had burst open and several more militia littered in the room, and Alias glanced off her shoulder as she straightened up.  
  
She laughed, fluttery and gentle, with all those eyes and all those weapons calling her name. But her smile dropped. She was incredibly angry. Some scream when they are angry. Alias was known to channel it instead, and this was what made her a mercenary by heart. She twirled both katanas with her wrists and slowly confronted her new opponents, the hazy mist gradually cracking the surface of skin around her freckled cheeks, nose and eyes. It didn’t just enhance her infrared perception on the molecular level but gave her that boost when she needed it. Her aura became visible as dry winds. Alias moved.  
  
Wet, coppery, sticky. Lightning-fast, adeptly skilled, hidden eyes. Firearms, disarmed and disassembled. People, chopped to size. Ice, dry. Zero. Dead.  
  
It took her a moment to realise what she was doing and she took a step back, lowly panting at the bloody carnage that surrounded her. Limbs were cut off, bodies were decapitated, blood stained the floor in a pool of deep crimson. Blood decorated her person, painting her skin, clothes and hair in blotchy splashes. She had purposely left the last man to suffer and struggle with his broken kneecap, let his life seep out one breath at a time. “You.” Alias sauntered over to him and knelt down, tilting her head with a pout on her face before standing up again. “It’s a shame, though.” A boot to the face made the man collapse onto his stomach, and with no arms to drag himself away he tried squirming for freedom instead but felt pressure on his back. “All these things I could’ve done to you...your death could’ve been worse. Much worse.”  
  
She brought her hand from her side and aimed the pistol he had previously thrown down at his head, using her thumb to pull back the safety. His pleas of mercy rang about the room, but it only made her tighten her grip. Bang. Another life taken, just like that. She didn’t want those memories to arise again.. That’s why she had to kill them. That’s why she was made to kill them.  
  
A gun clicked and Alias moved her covered eyes, remembering this certain heat signature. She hesitated, threw the gun away and turned around to face the Arkham Knight with a relaxed face. “They tried me. You saw they they did, what they tried to do.”  
  
**“You just killed a few of my best men.”**  
  
“With the intention to force me into sexual submission against my will. That's why they lie on the floor, dead, in pieces, rather than standing around me. On guard, like you ordered. Next time your men pull off something like that ever, expect not to see their bodies.” Her voice was cold, chilling, sharp enough to cut, the the Knight didn’t flinch. Didn’t retaliate to her words. Her hand reached up and pulled the blindfold off her face, in which she tossed at his masked face, and sauntered to the door. “If you need me, I'll be talking to Scarecrow about my place in this alliance. And finding a new outfit to wear, it’s covered in their blood.”  
  
“There's no need,” a soft voice spoke out and she felt the air get colder by a couple .degrees, a cloaked figure emerging from the shadows of the room with clunky steps as they stepped over and around her organic destruction. “I've seen everything I need to know.” His speech was clear, careful, unhurried. Logical.  
  
**“What?”** The Knight protested, his gun still pointed at her. **“No―I say kill her. Did you not see what she did?”**  
  
“And I say not to. Alias is a valuable asset that we can use to our advantage, Knight. Batman knows not of her existence; we can use her anonymity in our favour. Someone that can cause destruction and chaos. The evidence of her skill is under your feet.”  
  
**“And what if she turns against you? What she turns my whole army against you? Huh? ‘cause I think the possibility of her putting a bullet in your head is very high. Hell, probably higher than killing Batman, but we can't hope too much, can we?”**  
  
“Tell me something, Arkham Knight.” Alias interrupted as she pushed herself off the door with a foot and walked up to the ambiguous man, her eyes frozen lasers against his visor whilst his iron sight was a inch or two away from her forehead. “Are you immune to the fear toxin? Are you immune to the fears that cling and stick to you? No. You're not. You weren't trained to kill, you were taught to kill. Being trained and being taught are two different things. You were taught to hold a gun, I was trained to pull the trigger. You were taught to defend yourself. I, was trained to fight. Trained to make sure that the person I fight doesn't get up. See, we have our fair share of differences, Knight, but having me on your side will make your job so much easier.”  
  
“She has a point, Knight,” Scarecrow chimed in, walking across to the three mostly-intact corpses to glare down at them. “You will get your revenge, but we must change the rules if needs be. You need a shadow, and Alias is experienced enough to be that shadow. Operation: Saviour would be able to progress faster if we have another pawn.”  
  
The Arkham Knight didn't respond to their statements but put his gun back in the holster, pushed past Alias and violently booted the door off its hinges, earning but a sigh from the Meta Mercenary. “Is he always like that?”  
  
“His emotional state has been stable...until now, that is.”  
  
“Strange…”  
  
“Your payment will be wired to your account once Operation: Saviour has been completed. I have assigned you to the Arkham Knight's unit. Failure to comply will result in your imminent demise. I suggest you don't take my words lightly, Alias.” She smiled and turned to face the door, only to look off her shoulder with a hazy look. Scarecrow was a mysterious man like the Knight, but his words were coated with intellectual film like his eyes that stood out against his heavy, fabric features. Then she suspected if he took inspiration from Freddy Krueger as his needle-gauntlet contraption looked vaguely similar to the killer's ‘knives for fingers’.  
  
“I'll make sure not to disappoint you.”


	3. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even with his digital wall cast against his features, Alias gets a taste of the man underneath the visor if only for a short while. But with the reunion of the organisation that crafted her mercenary background, Alias and the Arkham Knight forge a promise holding more weight than the scars they carry.

The Arkham Knight was pissed.  
  
Not only did she manage to persuade Scarecrow into joining, and did this by showing her strange immunity to his fear toxin and took out a further 7 armed men, but somehow he found himself being stuck with her. And the alluring smile on her face emphasised just how pleased she was with herself. She wore something different the last time he spoke to her; a silk cardigan with a Chinese dragon snaking up her back and left sleeve and a revealing bodysuit that drew attention to her breasts than any other part of her body. A silver anklet encircled her ankle, with a chunky bracelet to match and this time, she surprisingly straightened her hair.  
  
"Lighten up," she told him, noticing how tightly he gripped the steering wheel by the tension of his leather gloves. "You could've been sitting here with someone you don't like."  
  
**"Aren't I doing that already?"**  
  
"You don't like me? That's a shame. I'd like me."  
  
**"I really hate narcissistic people."**  
  
"It's not being narcissistic if you're having to compete with a man without a face."  
  
**"And you're referring to me?"**  
  
"Yeah," she sighed, placing her elbow on the vehicle door and held her jaw in her palm. "You sound attractive, even with the modulator."  
  
**"Funny."**  
  
"...fine. I'll shut up, since engaging in small talk might probably get me shot. Again, again." Twirling a lock with a finger, Alias glared out the window to examine the world outside the armoured jeep; torn posters, closed shops and abandoned houses and cars. Then there was the actuality under the morals, with riots at almost every corner, a police car pursuing their suspects and then there was them. A Meta Mercenary and the Arkham Knight, both dangerous in different ways that actually compliment each other. Ice, something seen to be beautiful and elegant, and guns, known to be ruthless and direct with its purpose.  
  
A mix made in limbo, because heaven and hell doesn't exist in a world like this.  
  
Just as the ambiguous man turned the junction with an encrypted bomb deep into the concrete, something sparked in Alias's mind and she glared up at the buildings with a close eye, knowing that whatever she was going to find wasn't going to be on their side. Without warning, she opened the floor and jumped out, rolling on the ground before recovering swiftly and heard another door slam shut.  
  
**"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you stupid?"**  
  
"Unless that was a compliment, I don't think so…”  
  
**“You’re seriously testing my intent to kill you.”**  
  
“I'm surprised you haven't yet. I just got this feeling..." A small spot of heat emanated from her temple and she raised a brow, leaning out of the way when the shot went off. "Why does everyone want to kill me? Is this a thing now? I'm not such an easy target, am I?"  
  
**"How did you―"**  
  
"Like you've said before, walking Wikipedia: infrared perception. So, shall we deal with them so they're not more of a hassle than they already are?" The Arkham Knight reached behind him for his pistols before putting one of them in an upright position, twisting his wrist slightly as a barrel extended from the safety, and brought the other pistol to the muzzle, Alias watching in wonderment as his weapons became a sniper rifle.  
  
**"Let's go."**  
  
"Guess we are gonna have some fun. Scared of heights?"  
  
**"No."**  
  
"So straightforward. I like that." The icy mist accumulated off her hands again as she stepped back and gestured her hand upwards, an ice tower erupting under the Knight's feet that had launched him into the air with enough momentum to reach the rooftop. He flipped onto one knee and felt the cold breeze of Alias as she landed beside him, already marking out their enemies. "There's 8, two are unarmed. Definitely not friendlies."  
  
**"Then it shouldn't be a problem. I'll wait for your signal."** A soft smile stretched across her face as he brought out some sort of grappling hook and whisked into the air, giving her complete control of what was about to happen to 8 poor guys. Not like she cared about their safety, they weren't on her side. End of. Alias picked up a convenient lone brick by her foot and threw it at a convenient lone window that was perched against a short flight of steps, the sound of it smashing alerting those that were closest and they rushed to find, and not find, Batman standing there. But no, it was only her, and even so they fired at her, becoming more agitated as they found their rounds surrounded by ice on the floor.  
  
"Let's try that again," she whispered as she brought out her arms beside her, her eyes glowing a fierce neon as frosty winds were summoned from a mere breeze to a violent blizzard in seconds, impairing her enemies' vision as well as creating anti-pockets so the Arkham Knight could take them out one by one. Her hair whipped against her face for only 10 seconds as she had calmed down the winds after that, humming in satisfaction as he landed beside her with all eight bodies on the floor with a hole in their heads and blood pooling out. But Alias pointed at one, "There's two bullets in him."  
  
**"He didn't drop fast enough,"** he replied as he reloaded one of his guns, the Meta kicking over one who had fallen on their stomach and widened her eyes at the insignia sewn to their bulletproof vest. Syndicate, the small organisation that made Alias and the same organisation she sent burning to the ground. Too many haunting memories swirled within her mind and she shook her head, passing the Knight who kept his digital gaze on her. He wanted to say something, her body language expressing loneliness, but she let out a calm puff of air and placed a hand on her hip.  
  
"I know you've got questions."  
  
**"Who are they?"**  
  
"You guys know them as the organisation that never existed. I know them as Syndicate. They specialise in genetic modification, and I was the first...successful Meta they managed to create."  
  
**"You were a part of these guys?"**  
  
"You say it as if I had a choice," she snapped back, walking up to him as she said her sentence before biting her bottom lip. The Alias that stood before him, was one stripped of something human. "I was used against my will."  
  
**"Didn't mean to ask."**  
  
"No, you were curious. I'm just wondering who made them post in Gotham. In any case, these guys can’t be the last of them. Let's go.” Alias began walking to the edge and expected for him to be beside her, only to be swept off the rooftop and she let out a surprised squeal as they whisked through the air. It felt comforting in a weird way, the way his arm was around her waist and how he pressed her against his body. It was almost too comforting to be true.  
  
Suddenly her senses narrowed and her head snapped to a black-clad militia with an RPG aiming right at them. “Knight―!” Her hands came up just as the militia fired, her icy shield strong enough to stop it exploding in their faces but not enough to absorb the shockwave. The Arkham Knight had lost his grip on her and their forced, altered trajectory flung them into the ceiling window of a warehouse, the shattered glass and violet ice decorating the rug they recklessly landed on and they gradually came to a stop.  
  
The Knight recovered first, pressing himself off the floor and realised that Alias had gone awfully quiet. **“Alias...you okay?”** He heard her moan breathlessly and crawled towards her, noting her unconscious state by her lack of interaction, and placed a hand under her neck with his thumb cupping her cheek. **“Can you hear me?”** She moaned again and weakly covered his hand with hers, and couldn’t fight the smile that faintly embroidered her glossy lips.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re...getting soft on me...Knight.”  
  
**“We can’t stay here. They’ll circle the place and investigate for bodies, and we’re too exposed.”**  
  
“Hmm...we still need to...get rid of them.”  
  
**“We’ll talk about that later, but right now we’re leaving.”** He held onto her arm, draped it over his shoulder and hooked his arms under her knees and lower back. She pressed her head against his chest once he got her off the floor and listened to the sound of his heartbeat under all his armour. It wasn’t slow but it wasn’t quick either, just paced enough to conclude his worry towards her. The Arkham Knight, worried about a woman who he wanted to kill?  
  
That was beyond her.  
  
He had put her down when they were in the elevator, and he hit the last button on the panel before stepping back and letting out a long exhale. **“You okay?”** He echoed his words and reached behind him for his modified pistols. She dusted off her clothes and pressed her back on the elevator wall, her eyes casted on his bat-ears.  
  
“I’ll be fine. I didn’t think something like that would cause a mild concussion.”  
  
**“You did take an RPG head-on. Why did you do that?”**  
  
“What?”  
  
**“Sacrifice yourself.”**  
  
“I didn’t. I only raised my guard and blocked it. Besides, even if I did I’d have my own reasons. Nothing personal.”  
  
**“...whatever you say. Just warn me next time.”**  
  
“You wouldn’t have reacted fast enough. Also, I suggest you use the emergency shaft. 5 armed men are waiting on the ground floor. A surprise attack wouldn’t hurt, right?”  
  
**“And what about you?”**  
  
“I’ll be your decoy.” The Knight let out a sound and shot out of the metal box in seconds, the Meta Mercenary fixing her hair and gathering the cold around her with her aura surrounded by chilly whispers and her eyes closed. How did she let that happen? A simple explosion knocked her out. She’s suffered worse and yet couldn’t handle an explosion.  
  
The corner of her lips curled down slightly. An error that would’ve lead to her death. How pathetic.  
  
She ignored the pointless conversation of the Syndicate militia waiting for them as their voices got louder and louder, and didn’t give them the chance to react to her presence as she let out a forceful blast that threw all men off their feet. The hazy mist was already burning against her face as she casually walked out of the elevator, a round sounding off. She knelt down next to one of the militia still dazed from her elemental attack and smashed his jaw with her knee and ducked under the Knight’s roundhouse to deal with the man in mid-swing. She used her cardigan to stun her opponent and went for quick strikes, executing a spinning back kick to his chest cavity when his breathing got faster and heavier. Her attacker slumped to the ground and she turned around just as the Knight countered a punch and shot his opponent in the face and was half-glad he left one for interrogation. She was just more surprised he reached the last man first and effortlessly held him in the air in a chokehold.  
  
**“Who sent you?”** he spoke bitterly, his gun just under the man’s chin, and Alias kicked an arm out of her path as the hazy mist vanished.  
  
“Why would I―”  
  
“I don’t think he stuttered,” she interrupted as she materialised beside the Arkham Knight in a shimmer of light violet ice and startled their interrogatee. “Did you hear him stutter? No, and neither did I. I suggest you answer him.”  
  
**“I won’t ask again.”**  
  
“I was just ordered here, I swear! Our leader never shows her face, she just tells us what to do―!”  
  
“Did she order you to kill me?”  
  
“That’s confi―” A blade sung through the air and it took the Knight a moment to realise her fast adaption, and held her elemental weapon to his throat. Now they looked more like a team, bonded by the intent to kill whoever’s in their way. The Arkham Knight and a Meta Mercenary, a match made in limbo. His cold, livewire face with her cloudy eyes made the man shrink in terror.  
  
“You’re Syndicate, the non-existent organisation that made me and should be charred to nothing. Unless they want their Meta back, they have to try harder than this. So why are you here?”  
  
“I-I told you the truth! We were just ordered here! I swear!”  
  
**“That sounds more like an excuse. Sorry, but you’ve just ran out of time.”** Their interrogatee begged for his life and Alias turned away from the execution, still annoyed by her vulnerability and crossed her arms. The Arkham Knight carelessly tossed the dead interrogatee away and peered off his shoulder, Alias’s silence bringing up his uneasiness again.  
  
“I never wanted this, you know,” she started. “I never wanted to be a mercenary, I never wanted to kill people. Sometimes I forget things, sometimes I remember everything. But what happened to me in that place...it’s a blur of torture, screaming and frozen skin. I get nightmares of what happened to me, but they’re never the same. Which is why I can never trust Syndicate, because I’m afraid they messed with my memories as well. I can’t even remember my own name.” The Knight paused in motion before he turned around to face her back, placing his firearm back in its holster.  
  
**“Why are you telling me this? You don’t know me.”**  
  
“I never grew up with friends, having the social skills to maintain any relationships, and if I did I don’t remember them.” She sighed. “Understanding that you obviously don’t like me and not vice versa, I was assigned to your unit. So we’re gonna work together until the end. So just promise me something, Knight.”  
  
**“You really are a kid.”**  
  
“And kids are cruel,” she softly replied as she turned to glance at his digital facade. “So what do you say? Can you make a deal with a living demon, or are you waiting to turn into one yourself?” He froze on the inside. Her gentle voice alongside her smile, it was...it was almost like she saw into his soul, his black, torn soul filled with what he used to be. Alias shrugged with her hands raised, “I’m guessing your eerie silence is a yes. How amusing, the Arkham Knight willing to bet everything and anything on a woman he wants to kill. I’m looking forward to how this story ends.” The Meta stared at the well-barricaded doors several metres away from the elevator and sauntered to it, not waiting up for the ambiguous man as she gestured with her hand and glassy violet rose from the ground.  
  
**“We both know how it ends. Gotham’s legend erased from existence.”** She smirked and clenched her fist, the doors shattering to her will as her ice infected its woody core and rearranged its structure. Its once solid build collapsed onto the scarred ground in elemental fragments and she stepped outside. Two vehicles whizzed past her, a blaring police car chasing a muscle car of thugs. To her right, a couple of rioters ran in her opposite direction and to her right was one of Syndicate’s vehicles; left abandoned.  
  
“Good. That means you can keep a promise.”


	4. Rex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arkham Knight surprises Alias even more with gestures unknown to a man cast in metal and camouflage, but she notices something incredibly wrong...compressed into a blonde man whose voice was cast to shadows. She is given a task with this blonde man, but not without the Knight showing her a glint of the man underneath through fear. It is Halloween, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to point out; as a perfectionist, I hate this font. That is all.
> 
> Jk i lied hit me up fam kazred.tumblr.com
> 
> Also hope that you're enjoying this fic. I legit wanna post everything up because the story gets better (I''d like to think it's gets better, I've been told I'm great at fight scenes and angst is my spirit animal)
> 
> aka if you notice, yes i was inspired by metal gear solid v: phantom pain don't judge that game got me shooketh

Alias kept quiet to the Knight's dismay, catching glances of him before diverting her sight to what was in front of them, her face in a soft frown, soft enough that he almost couldn't tell. He knew it was about tonight’s recent events, her helplessness, Syndicate’s confrontation. It messed with her emotional state and created awkward tension in the vehicle, even though it seemed her confidence was brought back momentarily.

  
  
Can you make a deal with a living demon, or are you waiting to turn into one yourself?

  
  
They arrived at their destination, and she waited patiently for him to park properly and turn off the ignition before getting out, a distant glare in her eyes. It seemed strange not hearing her voice, not hearing her laugh and talk about anything on her mind; like she was simply out of her own character. He wasn't sure what drove him to do this, to be honest he was shocked with himself, but he walked up to her and held out his leather hand; Alias furrowed her brows together in confusion, trying to decipher what the Arkham Knight was playing at even though he was looking away to apparently hide whatever expression was on that robotic face of his.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
**"What do you think?"**  
  
She tilted her head. "Doesn't seem of you."  
  
**"Don't get used to it."** After a short moment of silence, her face lit up as a flowery chuckle escaped her glossy lips, a faint tinge to her freckled cheeks as she held a hand to her mouth; gently, she placed her hand in his and suddenly felt the sense of security once she felt him tighten his grip. She didn't think to question why he did it, didn't think about the motives he was leading on because she realised there was none, and when the security door to his hideout opened to reveal numbers of armed men, to find the Arkham Knight holding hands with the same woman who took down around 30 of these guys... It felt good, knowing that they knew the difference between the couple and the group. Superiority, ruthlessness and bonds surpassing the strength of steel.  
  
It was almost touching, the way the sea of armoured men parted for them as the Knight led the way with Alias a mere step behind, her eyes glancing at masked faces and wondering if they were thinking how could someone like her manage to hold hands with a man used to the cold metal of his guns.  
  
The answer was simple, actually.  
  
Reaching the elevator, the doors had opened with a henchmen already inside but he didn't have a mask to hide his identity, his battle-hardened face contrasting his emerald eyes and blonde, curly hair.  
  
**"This is Rex,"** the Arkham Knight told her, with the man named Rex winking in response to his name. **"He's gonna be your right-hand man. Apparently, he was wondering if you could teach him your style of fighting."**  
  
"Is that so?" Alias hummed, raising her brows as she analysed Rex who stood at least an inch taller than the Knight but she kept that fact to herself. "I would love to teach someone as keen as you." Rex smiled in response but didn't say a word, which made her look at the Knight for an answer as to why.  
  
**"He's had his fair share of leaders, but his last one cut out his vocal cords."** Alias gasped breathlessly, narrowing her violet gaze on the blonde man but his smile didn't fade. She didn't understand why he was smiling as he was literally stripped of his freedom of speech. He smiled, even though he's unable to call anyone's name, laugh at funny moments in time or even hum. What kind of life was Rex living? **"Don't feel bad for him. He's one of the best I've had."**  
  
"But he has no voice...a man without a voice, is a man trapped in his own hell."  
  
**"Alias―"**  
  
"No. Rex, I promise you. I will find your voice." The Arkham Knight sighed as the doors opened once again, Alias letting her inner thoughts change her subtle face into one riddled with unanswered questions while she was being led down the corridor, Rex walking behind the couple with steps as silent as their own. Why wasn't someone doing anything about it, was what she wanted to know.  
  
But for some reason, she didn't want to know. Because the answer was still holding her hand.  
  
**"Here."** The Knight stopped at a door encrusted with silver embroidery, having to let go of Alias's hand in order to take out the keycard from his pocket. It didn't take long for him to open the door, it was just that the Meta didn't want to get in the room. **"What's wrong now, hm? I let you hold my hand, what, you wanna make out or something?"**  
  
"Next time..."  
  
**"There won't be a next time."**  
  
"You're right." And out of nowhere, she grabbed onto the Arkham Knight's sleeve, pulled him in towards her and kissed his digital mask. Rex's face dropped the instant he knew what was going to happen, and stayed still until Alias forcefully pulled away and wiping his visor, smiling briefly before stepping into the room with her arms crossed. "Now, as I was saying before I was romantically interrupted, someone was in here."  
  
**"That's impossible,"** the ambiguous man told her, no hint of disgust in his modified tone to assert his superiority, even in forced situations such as the one he was involved in. **"There's encrypted locks on both this door and the balcony door."**  
  
She scanned the room again, a misty blue haze rising upon her eyes once again to see the carpet covered in footprints that have almost become the same temperature as the room itself. There were heat signatures everywhere, it pretty much looked like a smudge on a canvas with colours that faded into the background. "Then encrypt it even more...we have an intruder. More like, a Meta."  
  
**"Rex is the Meta."** Alias pivoted on her heels, a look of soft shock on her face.  
  
"What."  
  
**"After his voice was removed, he went through extensive treatment at a facility that he doesn’t remember. It couldn't reverse the damage, but he can see and phase through solid objects as well as teleport and manipulate ionic energy."**  
  
"That's amazing...I almost killed you, Rex. Sorry." Rex shook his head with a smirk, indicating that he kindly took her answer, and acknowledged her new environment. Pastel walls, a king-size bed, lush carpet and rugs, chandeliers, even a dressing table with lights. Unconsciously, Alias stripped off her silk cardigan and stretched onto her tiptoes, took off her glassy heels and fell backwards onto her bed with a sensual sigh. “Comfortable…hey, Rex. Sit with me.”  
  
The Knight watched as Rex reluctantly followed her command and sat at the front of the bed, and Alias swayed over to him before she slid her arms around his torso and pressed her head against his. **“Don't try and seduce my men. I will personally kill you.”**  
  
“His heat signature is constant, even when I'm near him. You're not scared of me?” She glared at Rex with warming eyes and received a smile in return, and felt the need to hug him tighter; this had never happened before. Nobody, apart from the Knight, has ever made her feel so...relaxed. Like she could drop her guard and not have to worry.  
  
**“Alias, no time for resting, you have been assigned with a job by Scarecrow. Think you can not fuck it up?”**  
  
“I’m a mercenary. The last thing I quote unquote fucked up was when I allowed myself to be born into Syndicate. I’m not making mistakes like that again.” As she spoke she slid away from Rex and to the edge of the bed, her head slowly rising as she run into her last sentence so that the Knight could see the seriousness in her eyes. He guessed after what happened earlier she wasn’t going to joke around and, judging by the darkened glisten, she was going to live by her words.  
  
**“Appreciate your professionalism.”**  
  
She rolled her eyes and moved to slide her heels back on. “Don’t get used to it...so, where does he want me? In the shadows, I’m guessing? Pulling strings that Batman didn’t know he was attached to?”  
  
**“There’s some men that he wants erased in this city. They’re surprisingly still here and they know too much that they could jeopardise the operation.”**  
  
“Oooooh...multi-target assassination, huh? You’re too kind, Knight.”  
  
**“He’s apparently trusting you on this. I don’t know why since you just joined but, I won’t say any more.”**  
  
“Good, because you were starting to annoy me. Just tell me where they are and I’ll be on my way.”  
  
**“Oh, no no. Not just you. You’re taking Rex with you. Don’t worry, he won’t slow you down.”** She peered at the Meta with inviting eyes as he stood up and fixed his militia jacket, tapping his shoulder to possibly indicate a weapon of some sort.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind someone as handsome as you to join me, since the Knight is busy playing leader and all. He definitely won’t have time for me…” She smiled sinfully as she swayed towards the Knight, pressing her body up against his and hugged his arm with affection while ignoring his digital gaze that burned her face. “And I was just starting to fall in love too…I guess now you have competition.”  
  
**“Rex, could you give us a moment?”**  
  
“Oh, no wonder there’s a king-size bed in here,” she blushed deeply as Rex respectfully ushered himself out the room and didn’t even react when the ambiguous man pushed her away from him and stepped to the mirror; just tall enough to see his entire profile. “I knew it would have more than one function. Pick, top or bottom?”  
  
**“Could you be any more serious?”**  
  
“Sarcasm. Cute, but I’m just trying to de-stress you. You’re acting kinda strange.”  
  
**“You don’t know me.”**  
  
“You said that already and you’re right, but when you’re playing alongside villains who don’t even like you and are waiting for the chance to backstab each other...then I’m gonna have to.”  
  
**“Why are you even here?”**  
  
“Because I don’t have any other choice, Knight. I’m here because I’m an attention-seeking mercenary, who wants whatever she wishes but as the world is cruel and judgemental I have to kill to get what I want. I’m here because of Batman.” The Knight peered off her shoulder when he heard his ex-mentor’s name, Alias crossing her arms tight in front of her chest and moving her weight to her other leg. “I’m here because I wasn’t given a chance. The same could be said for you, no?”  
  
**“If you think you’re trying to get under my skin, it’s isn’t working―.”**  
  
“Admit it.” She started sauntering towards him, her heels creating eerie echoes in the already tense atmosphere. “You’re probably using every single person in this building to get back at him, aren’t you? You were given the money to build an army, the power to control it, and the intellect to be one step after the Dark Knight. Let’s be honest, you need someone like me. Someone who understands.” Alias stopped moving when he had turned around and his iron sight was aimed at her head, his slightly heaving shoulders expressing the rage he was attempting to control, and her smile dropped.  
  
**“I won’t warn you again, Alias.”**  
  
“So it was working? You are a really good liar, Knight.” She flicked her light pink hair as she moved away from him, leaving her silk cardigan on the bed and instead took the half grey hoodie that hung on the nearby peg by the door. Just as she slipped it on, she fought the urge to look back at him and coiled her fingers around the doorknob. “I’m expecting some sort of surprise when I finish my assignment. Would make regret killing you earlier not have to be such an annoyance.”  
  
Once the door closed, she balled the fabric at her chest in sudden release and Rex held her shoulder in reassuring concern. That was...that was haunting. I mean, at first, she thought he was toying with her to see how far she would go but his voice...She shivered, the hairs on the nape of her neck standing on end. The Knight was assertive but she didn’t think he’d be...threatening, intimidating. Almost reminded her of…  
  
She let out a breath. “Let’s go, Rex.”


	5. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alias's talents are displayed in a fury of ice and combat and Rex showcases his abilities that overshadow his warm silence. Running into Bludhaven's saviour, Nightwing, she has her ways with him but not without a familair voice whispering orders into her ear.

“So, now what?”  
  
Every person in that abandoned hall wondered who the hell she was, since she wasn't common to any of them in the slightest of ways. He just needed a couple of minutes of their time to reassess their situation and thread the Meta into the fabric of inevitability. The Riddler, Harley Quinn, Two Face, The Penguin and the new face by the name of the Arkham Knight acting as Scarecrow’s voice and actions. They had all been sitting around a conference table when she walked in, Knight's words introducing her to the villainous group, and the first person to retaliate was Dent who had drawn out his gun and pointed it at her.

"Who the hell are you?" Two-Face asked, walking up towards her before shoving the nuzzle up her chin.

"What you feel when you die," she answered back calmly, her voice riddled with her alluring British accent before moving away from him and bowing her head in respect. "Well, hello...I am Alias. I also have a part in this theatrical story, but mine is worth the Bat."

"And what makes yer think that?" The Penguin questioned her, a noticeable frown on his face, and Alias turned her head towards him. She didn't think he'd be so vertically challenged in person.

"There are some things you wouldn't understand, Cobblepot...I am the Meta Mercenary that had resided in Arkham but due to certain events, I came here. Scarecrow is aware of my reasons and I ask to be respectful of them-"

"I like you," a high-pitched voice cut her off, and the Meta glanced at the blonde with the two-tone attire and cocked a brow. "The way you carry yourself...I admire that in a lady."

"Why, thank you Quinn...but like everyone else in this room, I have a part to play. Oh, and Dent?” The half-scarred man snarled as he glanced in her direction, unexpecting a spin-kick to the face and let out a pained grunt as he was thrown off his feet. Alias slowly dropped her leg, fixed her hair and walked up to the fallen man. “Point a gun at me again, and you won't see tomorrow. Just because you hold status as a reckless thug, doesn't mean you test the life of someone trained to kill you.” The Arkham Knight crossed his arms, that was an impressive kick. The Riddler suppressed a laugh of mockery as Harley shared a surprised pout, pressing her hands on the table to catch a glimpse of Dent recovering on the floor.  
  
Dent brought a hand to his face and felt blood ooze out of his nose, his hasty breaths becoming louder as rage fuelled his next actions and words; he pulled himself off the floor and balled her silk cardigan in one shaking fist. “You fucking bitch-!”  
  
“Go on,” she grinned. “Flip your coin. Let's see who gets to kill who.” A hand curled around Dent’s wrist and Alias glared up at the Knight, the armoured man throwing off the hand that gripped her cardigan and she let out an exasperated sigh as she flattened out the new creases. “Now that I've got almost everyone's attention...it seems like Scarecrow has assigned for each of you to wreck an aspect of chaos to either plunge this city into havoc or distract Batman from Operation Saviour.” She crossed her arms as she swayed to the end on the table, stopping beside the Knight. “Considering everything is going to plan, having someone like me will greatly boost morale amongst the militia. Everyone here has some sort of vendetta on the Bat, I have a target on him.”  
  
“Oh look,” Nigma spoke up his time with his usually cheery voice. “Another walking disappointment. What would make us think you can kill the Bat?”  
  
“Yeah!” Harley exclaimed. “You look too pretty to kill someone like Bats. You think you can take him?” Alias moved her weight to her other foot as she stared at the frames by the table, and casually flicked her hand in the air as if she was throwing something. And throw something she did indeed. Harley let out a squeal as a broadsword made out of violet ice was stabbed into the table, Nigma’s brows raising in surprise as he witnessed her abilities.  
  
“He thinks he's immortal. He forgets that underneath all that black, is a man dressed up as a bat. If I can kill you, I can kill him. It's simple, really. Besides I being paid. No money, no mark.”  
  
“Yer one scary woman, yer know that,” Penguin mumbled, his mouth occupied by the half-burnt cigar and Alias smiled.  
  
“Oh, I can assure you Cobblepot...this was nothing. If we're on the same page, then it's best we do everything to make Halloween come alive.” She spun on her toes and began to walk to the doors she entered from and stopped just before she reached for the handle. “Oh, and Knight? I've been assigned to your unit. Crane’s orders.”

 

*****

 

Alias walked through the streets of Miagami with Rex a mere couple of steps in front of her, already taken care of three targets in the space of 15 minutes. 5 minutes to hear them ramble on about a life the two didn't care about, have them try to defend themselves and miss the opportunity to say their last words. The last target found out about the assassinations and took cover in Black Canary Club, which wasn't very smart in Alias's opinion. But, no, she was astonished by Rex's skill as a trained fighter and as a Meta. It shocked her when he brought out some sort of energy sword that burned blue and sliced through matter at will; if she had to guess, the energy that emanates from it was capable of destroying the bonds between molecules. It shocked her when he moved through space and time. It shocked her even more when he pulled her through a wall, a solid surface, when she wasn't in cover. Even now, she still couldn't get over that last one. Phasing through a wall felt incredibly...dense. There wasn't another way to describe it. Just, dense.  
  
Rex booted open the doors and had his sword by his side, cautiously stepping into the casino with the Meta Mercenary gazing up at the silver chandeliers. “Pretty,” she lowly commented as she admired the interior design of the establishment, red carpets that stretched up the staircase, black-leather loveseats that were placed in the reception’s perimeter and paintings that varied in canvas size. As they walked past the reception booth and up the stairs to the casino, Alias’s senses heightened as she picked up more than one heat signature. She felt several, but one was different than the others and on the rooftop of the building. “Rex, wait.”  
  
Rex stopped and peered off his shoulder, her hand squeezing his bicep in reassurance before letting go, and watched as she moved in front of him. She examined the sea of casino slots, tables and bars and brought the hazy mist to her eyes. “Our target isn't alone. But neither are we. You deal with these guys. Any problems, we've got the gauntlets. I'll go deal with whoever's trying to take our target. Good luck.” After exchanging pats on each other’s back, she caught a glimpse of Rex pooling electricity into his hands just as she launched herself to the ceiling windows with a glacier, and used an arm to shield her face from the fragments. She landed softly yet the figure heard her and turned to examine her, and she widened her eyes as the mist faded. “The bird. I wondered why you were so calm.”  
  
He smirked and reached for his escrima sticks, “I would've noticed someone like you in a city like this.”  
  
“Well, I can't say the same for you.” She shrugged lightly and put one foot back, Nightwing’s eyes looking down to see what she was doing. “I already did.” She fired into a sprint straight towards him and just as he prepared to block her, a leap in the air and a flipping axe-kick was enough for Nightwing to realise she wasn't a regular thug. He dodged by cover-rolling backwards and blocked two more strikes before deciding to grab her attacking arm. She hissed as the submission hold was tightened, her arm folded against an escrima stick and she had reduced to one knee. “Not too bad. I was sloppy, my mistake.”  
  
“Who the hell are you?” He asked her sternly, and she chuckled under her breath.  
  
“Wouldn't you like to know.”  
  
“I kinda would.”  
  
“If you're going to interrogate me, could you move it along?”  
  
Nightwing ignored her, “Who are you working for?”  
  
“Not Dent, after he put a gun to my chin I don't think I'll work for him any time soon. Penguin sounds inviting, although having two British people together becomes less threatening. Nigma would probably annoy me with ‘riddle me this’ all the time. Now Crane…” she laughed. “Crane’s the man these days. Then again, you get what you paid for.” She left her afterimage as an ice sculpture and Nightwing was too slow to move his hands away, Alias a couple steps away from him and dusting her clothes off. “Nobody's ever got me in an lock like that.”  
  
“You're a Meta...should’ve known.”  
  
“Not really. Some Metas aren't obvious until you force them to be. But I don't use handicaps.” She waved a hand and the ice around his limbs shattered on command, the vigilante regained his composure and twirled his escrima sticks. The sounds of gunfire and yelling brought her attention to the ceiling window and she crossed her arms. “Not sure what you'll accomplish, but I have a target. If you want to be able to walk away, I suggest you stand down.”  
  
“You're a suspect, so...yeah, I don't think I can do that.” She shrugged as she flicked her wrists and ice gauntlets materialised gracefully, surrounded in silvery winds.  
  
“Suit yourself. Violence is always my second option if flattery doesn't work.”  
  
“That was flattery? You gotta try better than that.”  
  
“I do, don't I? That's a shame, you didn't hear me. You should've just broken my arm.” The mist appeared and she flash-stepped towards him, landing a left cross to the centre of his chest and lunging forward for another. He backflipped from the swing, threw a smoke pellet and used his grappling hook. Although the smoke didn't obscure her vision in the slightest she was oblivious to the whatever shot out at her but, when she felt it clamp onto her half-hoodie and yank her towards Nightwing, she figured out her situation. Just before she was knocked back by a clothesline, Alias met his outstretched arm instead and performed a one-arm shoulder throw. He grunted as his back smacked onto the floor but didn't stay too long as she punched down where his head was, but realised it was a setup for her aerial combo; just as he was getting up she stepped onto his knee and chest but the last hit was avoided by rolling out of the way.  
  
They were at it for another minute, shots connecting and throws initiated, and the thoughts that were running through his mind was how; how was she matching him, how was she countering his moves? It was unbelievable that a Meta who manipulated ice could be so good at hand-to-hand combat, so there must've been something more about her that's he's slightly afraid to know.  
  
Nightwing barred his teeth and managed to deflect her fourth strike and went to flip over her, but never thought her body would react faster than his. In his mid-flip she swivelled her body and punched his mid-section with enough force she created a shockwave, and he was thrown across the entire rooftop. She waited for him to stand and when she did she sighed as she sauntered towards him, slapping away his batarangs and flash-stepped behind him. She knew he wouldn't be fast enough for this as she knocked the back of his knee and forced him onto the floor, coiled an arm around his neck and the other manipulated his limb. “Wrist lock,” she commented casually. “Highly effective as a pain compliance technique. Do you understand the situation you're in, right?”  
  
Then she let out an exhausted exhale. “Wow. You should be really proud of yourself, nobody's ever worn me out before. An actual workout.” She exhaled again and tightened the lock on his wrist, which made Nightwing flinch in response. “I could kill you, but you have a guardian angel. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have played with you.”  
  
“...him?” The vigilante grunted and Alias nodded in return.  
  
“Him. Now I hear you're flexible...how flexible are you?” She slowly twisted the joint and felt his muscle clench against her but stopped just before she popped it out of place. Her gauntlet abruptly hummed and she released the hold on Nightwing to step away from him. “Rex ex machina,” she shrugged as her ice weapons shattered by will. “You're just lucky that you're not my main priority. I know I'll be seeing you later.”  
  
“Who the...hell are you?”  
  
“Why don't you ask Batman,” her brow cocked as she jogged and leapt into the shattered glass ceiling, the gauntlet beeping faster this time. She reached down for the assault of an already-dead henchman, checked the mag and, as the mist was still up, looked around for Rex's heat signature. Upstairs, he was upstairs. Combing her hair back, she made her way to the first level and darted through the sea of tables and almost instantly ducked when a brute wielding a machine gun slammed into the large room she was in.  
  
“He didn't work alone,” someone spoke from behind the brute and in flooded several more henchmen, one with some sort of detection gear on his back. They were probably expecting Batman or the bird whose wrist she almost snapped. She smiled, that's a shame. She didn't have time to take them out silently one by one so moved swiftly among them until she was in a good position, and stood up from her cover.  
  
It was quick, too quick. Before the brute could turn towards her she had frozen him entirely and gripped the rifle properly to waste four more henchmen. The other two began registering what was happening before their eyes and stayed together, covering each other's back and shouting warnings at one another. She found it cute that they could actually survive this and broke cover again, and in the sudden intensity of the moment one raised their iron sights and fired.  
  
Alias smirked and vanished mid-step before him, and he felt the pressure of his ally on his back as he staggered forward; she had materialised in front of his comrade, used him as a step-up stool and flipped over the pair of them. Only right before she landed she pushed them back with her feet and seamlessly cover-rolled backwards to her feet, the pair of henchmen skewered by the ice sculpture she created, and she threw the gun she was wielding on the floor. “Never really liked using guns,” she lowly spoke as she moved towards the back room, gesturing her hand so the sculpture collapsed. She fixed her clothes and booted the door open, her body moving on its own as she dived forward from multiple rounds and rebounded off the desk, grabbed the target's head and used her ongoing momentum to slam his face onto the floor.  
  
“And that,” she pointed down at him. “Was for not coming out and letting my comrade kill you. Unfortunately for you, I'll have to do it instead.” In both hands shimmered an ice sword and she kicked him over so that he was now on his back and stabbed his palms in place. He let out a blood-curdling scream as red streamed out in pools but Alias didn't react, letting go of the hilts and rushed over to a barely conscious Rex who smiled weakly up at her.  
  
“I don't see any marks,” she said in a surprised tone, having brought the mist up to examine his body. She hummed in confusion when his hand cupped her face, and she held it without hesitation. “Don't worry, we'll get out of here.” He shook his head and pointed behind her, and that was when she felt another heat signature emanating behind her. She stood up and spun on her heels, only to be bombarded with several psychic blasts that knocked her off-balance. Nothing but pain, nothing but white. “What the…”  
  
_“I can already smell your fear, frozen maiden…”_ the voice called out to her and her eyes darted around the room. _“It's almost addicting. Tell me, Alias: what are you afraid of?”_ Mixed emotions that weren’t her own flooded her body in violent waves and she stepped back, the reality before her melting away into nothingness to reveal a woman of her height standing metres before her. When she took a closer inspection, she realised it was her but something was wrong. Dark bruises decorated her ankles and wrists and cuts in the form of tally scores spanned her arms and legs. What was she looking at? A past she couldn’t even remember? _“Oh, yourself. I never would've known. But then again, I'm not surprised. Go on, have a taste of your own demon.”_  
  
The woman lifted her head and Alias gasped at the deep red stitches that kept her eyes shut. What the hell was she witnessing? Surely that didn't happen to her, surely...they didn't sew her eyes shut. That would be inhumane. The Meta was frozen in her place and reacted when her counterpart threw her hands out and icy winds slammed into her body, screaming in agony as it licked against her skin with the intensity of sub-zero temperature and that of the sun. It burned her skin, peeled the clothes off her body and burnt her hair to ash. The pain, the heat, the cold, it all felt so real. So real she thought she would be trapped in this oblivion forever.  
  
Then something snapped. She briefly shut her eyes and found them, hiding in the depths of the dark behind her lids and didn't waste another moment as the side of her fist forcefully met his face. He gagged and she panted, the weight vanishing from her shoulders, with the blade she took from one of the henchmen stabbed through the bridge of his nose and into his skull.  
  
“Another Meta? But how did I…” She widened her eyes. “It was you, wasn't it Rex?” He stumbled into her line of sight and tapped his nose as a gesture of secrecy, a tired grin on his face. The enemy Meta’s nerves had moved his hand to the knife in his face and stepped back before striking the floor hard, their target now whimpering in fear and extreme pain.  
  
“You're a psychic? No way. That's...that's so cool. Does anybody know?” Rex shook his head several times and she smiled at this response, for it to subtly drop as the man pinned to the floor begged and pleaded for his life to end. With a sigh, Alias snapped her palm and a knife completely silenced him; it had nipped at the linen of his crotch and it took the rest of his willpower not to move. “Shout at me again, and I swear the next one won't miss. As I was saying...so why not? Telepathy is an incredible power. Oh wait, that's why you don't want to tell anybody. Does Knight know?” He shook his head again. “Tell him later. But thank you for protecting my mind, not a big fan of mind-control.”  
  
_I know._  
  
She blinked. That was...that was her voice. That was said in her voice. But she didn't have the thought processes ready to say something like that. Her eyes peered at green orbs and he winked as he reached behind him, bringing out his energy sword.  
  
_I get to kill him. I wasn't aware that he would have a Meta as a last-resort bodyguard. I apologize for my sloppiness._  
  
“It's okay, I’ll give you this kill.” She didn't turn when he brushed past her and instead flicked her hair back with both hands, nothing but crushed bones and more of the man's cried staining the air. That feeling again. That feeling of helplessness. It was festering. As much as she didn't want it to. She almost felt pity for herself.  
  
Almost.


	6. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Knight promised her a gift on completion, but not without showing her the man underneath. A man who just wanted redemption but a man scared to redeem it.

She hummed to herself as she clipped her bra in place, the wall mirror to her left giving her the dazzling view of the lace lingerie hugging her intimate skin, but even so she wouldn't mind leaving her room like this; the so-called surprise after her successful completion, which she was surprised of seeing so nicely wrapped on the bed. While the bra itself was simplistic, it was her tanga briefs that was hooked over her hip bone that made something that was a necessity to become something more. It would be one hell of a distraction and rouse up the infantry...but that would mean the Knight would get on her case, and seeing him kinda explode once was actually kinda scary.

But still, Alias posed in front of the mirror for a moment, her elbows up and her hands holding up her light pink, curly hair and a smile cracked her face. "Mm...I'll say. The black looks better after all."

"Miss Alias, er sir, ma'am," one of her henchmen awkwardly called her from outside her room and she chuckled calmly, sauntering to the door and didn't think once to cover herself up.

"I've told you already, call me Alias. I'm not someone that craves leadership...or a title."

"Y-yes...er...s-sorry, Alias...um..."

She leaned on the door, her hip popping to the left. "...is there something you wanted to tell me, Breaker?" Breaker found it incredibly hard to tear his eyes off her body, since her curves were blatantly on display for the world to see, if it wanted, but he was going to try and be respectful. Try. With a body like that, trying was all he could do.

"Um, Y-yes...yes there is. You've been, er, personally chosen to command the post on, uh, Miagani Island."

"Personally? By who?"

"Scarecrow...um...Alias."

"Scarecrow, huh? Weird. First he doesn't want me to command and now he does. Not that I don't mind, it's just I rather have the role of something faster...never mind, I'm rambling again. Thank you for the message, Breaker."

"Not a problem." With an endearing smile she closed the door and sighed, a temperature higher than her own sending a warm sensation through her body.

"You should know by now, you can't sneak up on me even if you tried, Knight."

 **"I wasn't trying to."** Came the modified, digital reply and Alias glanced off her shoulder with his livewire hue at the corner of her sights. She swayed towards the mirror again, admiring herself more carefully and watched the Knight turn around to glance at her reflection.

"I became commander of Miagani."

**"So I've heard."**

"I didn't really want to be, but since Scarecrow's running this whole thing, I trust his decisions...almost."

**"And what do you mean by that?"**

"Finding a weakness in everyone is what I've been trained to do...he's so curious about Batman but...I-I don't know. Something's off, just don't know what. He's being careful."

**"Like you."**

"Me? Oh no, I just want to hit him at the right time. If you want me to strike, just say the word."

**"No, we draw him out, we make sure there's no more shadows left for him to hide in―"**

"And now you're pissed." Alias turned around to face him, and began walking up towards him with a soft frown making her appear more appealing than before. "Under that cyber facade...you're hiding something."

The Arkham Knight stepped back once, crossing his arms. **"There are some things you wouldn't understand."**

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I can't emphasise with you...if you won't kill me, I'm guessing your title is affiliated with Arkham Asylum...or maybe is something more compact, more restricting than the Asylum―" He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back, unintentionally seating her onto her bed.

**"We're not gonna discuss this again."**

"But I'm not like those other guys who are wasting time distracting a man that surrounds himself in his own fears. We're on the same page, you just have to find it."

 **"I want you training the rookies downstairs in 10. We can't waste time."** Just as the Knight was about to leave, Alias caught his arm and he stopped.

"Knight, I'm here for you."

**"And you're wasting time."**

She narrowed her eyes as she stared deeper into his mask, her violet eyes lighting up. "It is the Asylum, isn't it? What happened to you?"

**"I said―!"**

"You keep dodging my statements...it has to be―?!" Alias let out a sound of alarm as the Knight let his explosive rage move his body, pinning her onto the bed with his hands tight around her wrists and his mask so close to her face it was starting to feel intimidating. No, it was intimidating.

**"And what would you know about the Asylum, huh? Do you even know the half of what I went through in there?! Do you?! No, you don't. Because you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted to, while I was trapped in that fucking place against my own goddamn will for over a year! Over a year with that...crazy bastard! So tell me, how can you empathise with me, huh? How can you even begin to imagine the hell I went through?"**

Alias held her breath, the hate, anguish and pain in his demonic voice causing every frozen nerve in her body to tremble in fear, her eyes wanting to water but it took almost her will to stop herself from crying. Gradually, she closed her eyes and breathed out, what was supposed to be calming instead came out shaky and shallow, and the Knight kept still, waiting for an answer.

"That's where you're wrong," she muttered, shaking her head back and forth several times but she felt her temples become moist; she was crying... And she didn't even notice. "Because I've already been to hell and nothing can compare to what happened to me. I...I was normal. I had a life, I was a person capable of doing whatever she wanted to do...but I was at the right place at the wrong time..."

**"Wait, wait, what are you―"**

"They caught me, beat me up, put me on a table and stabbed needles into my skin...sucked out my blood and filled it with something else, it made me docile and made my heart colder. I...I was pregnant, Knight. They didn't just take my freedom...they took the only light that would've made me the happiest person in the world. They made me watch them kill every person I lived for and cared about...and every time, they'd chip away at my sanity until I stopped screaming, I stopped forming useless sentences. Then they tried to make me forget my past, erase it and...and fill it with soundless, tasteless essences. They..." Alias bit her lip as she felt her throat tighten and burn against that heavy marble in her throat, but the Arkham Knight didn't let go or move away. He wanted to hear it, her pain and anguish. He wanted to understand. Realise he wasn't the only one broken.

"They made me...like this, a merciless killer afraid of nothing..." Her voice reduced to desperate whispers by now, her own pain and silent anger writhing through every word she spoke of. But when she found herself, the strength in her voice returned. "But herself...so you're not the only one Batman left behind..." Her strained words pulled his hands away from her wrists and he straightened up, the British woman covering her wet face with her arm while her other reached up for pillow and hugged it tight against her chest.

**"A-Alias...I never―"**

"Just leave me alone! Okay? Just...just, go...Knight...please..."

**"Alias―"**

"We both have a job to do, don't we? I'll be down there in 5, just...let me be alone for a bit..." He wasn't the only one, he always wondered if she had something to hide behind her level-headed yet flirty demeanour and alluring voice. She may not have been broken by that green-haired bastard but she went through the same events as him; they didn't just strain her mentally and physically but biologically too, and now her blood ran colder than death itself. Alias had told him she can't remember her name, and maybe what happened to her was a result of her reported amnesia...and the result of her miscarriage.

The Knight walked with near-soundless steps to her door and when he reached down to open it, he glimpsed off his shoulder and sighed.

**"I'm sorry."**

Alias moved her face out of the pillow just as the door closed, the fabric stained with her tears and she barred her teeth in anguished nostalgia as her mind kept replaying those memories. But then she sat up and combed her hand through her hair, her new role as commander popping into her head again.

As she got up and caught sight of herself in the mirror, she realised, even in the body of the 25-year-old, the well-maintained body capable of freezing whatever it wanted, she was still the drained, numb, broken girl on the inside.

Just had her gathered pieces frozen together.


	7. Combat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Knight's violent outburst, Alias' anger is shown through a combat practise. And who else to spar with but the Knight himself.

Alias exited her room with a grey knitted bodysuit and specialised thigh-high boots; upon leaving, her two favoured guards and a rookie followed her shortly behind, assaults in hand and ready to issue support when their leader needed it. But one overheard the conversation she had with the Arkham Knight, which meant he also heard her cry, and was aching to ask her a comforting question.

"A-Alias...?"    
  
She tilted her head towards the speaker, "Yes, Axel?"   
  
"Are...are you okay?"   
  
"Idiot! I told you not to say anything! Do you not understand; it’s none of your business."   
  
"No, it's okay...I'm fine. I appreciate your concern. And Breaker, I keep telling you. I'm not like everyone else...I'm not just your leader, I'm your friend. I hope that's okay with you, Rex and Breaker, since you two never gave up on me. Sorry, Axel."   
  
"Sure it's fine with us," Breaker replied. "Anything to make you happy, Alias." The Meta smiled softly as they walked into the awaiting elevator in silence, with Rex pressing the corresponding button for the basement, and didn't utter a word on the way down. It was when the doors opened again to reveal a massive room with rookies clumped in groups did Alias usher the rookie that escorted her away and stepped to Rex’s side. 

“You know what to do. I'm counting on you, Rex.”

Rex nodded once and left her side, and the Meta flicked her hair back before walking to the front of the room. She waited for them to acknowledge her presence but they simply ignored her, laughing, talking, sparring. Alias made a surprised face before signalling to Breaker; he pointed his firearm at the ceiling and fired a couple times. Just like that, the laughing, the talking, the sparring stopped. Breaker gestured and Alias stepped in the middle of the crowd, her arms crossed and hip cocked to the side. 

“I won’t bore you men of my graceful introduction, as you will all learn who I am from today onwards. I won’t say my name unless you ask, and I won’t stop until I know you can’t tell me to. Is that clear enough for you?” As she had run into her last sentence, the small friendship group in front of her began smiling at each other and kept nudging the one with the bleached blonde hair. She grinned, “You. You want to fight me?”

“I don’t know er...you sure you won’t chip a nail, sweetheart?” The bleached blonde mocked her, with the rest of his group instigating the situation by rousing up excitement and anticipation. Alias tilted her head briefly, he seemed like fun. 

“Are you sure you want missing teeth, rookie?”

“Oh...so you do want me to beat you to a bloody pulp?”

“If you can. I won’t stop you.” The man wiped his face with a hand before swaggering to the centre, everyone else in the massive room clapping and cheering for him once he was at least a metre away from the Meta. “Okay, rules are simple. I’ll give you 3 attempts to floor me before I can react.”

“You’re making this too damn easy, beautiful.”

Her brow cocked. “You’d be surprised.”

“Oh, I sure would.” The bleached blonde brought his fists up and bounced from one foot to the other, trying to confuse her judgement and find an opportunity. There. He went for a right cross, but she dodged by leaning to the left. His eyes widened, relaxed just as fast, and he tried again. Only this time it was a kick. It wasn’t sloppy, in fact it was a well-performed back kick that had barely skimmed past her freckled cheek. Then he acted on first thought and went for a lower kick, but suddenly regretted it when she caught his foot in her hand. 

It happened way too fast, and he found himself on the floor clutching his torso as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. That was when there was no smirk on the rookies’ faces, the look of total shock and horror from the man’s group of friends; there was no signal for a chuckle. They had witnessed a woman of question floor a man without difficulty, without a moment wasted. Pure instinct.

“See that?” She pointed at him struggling to push himself off the padded ground. “Gloating is one reason why this man is on the floor. Another reason, he hasn’t been informed of my fighting background, nor has everyone else in this room. Apart from my men, each one of you has failed.” Then she turned to the man, who was now on all fours gasping lungfuls of air. “Also, you lack a base. Without a base, anybody can knock you over. I see you have some skill in taekwondo, but you just fought a mercenary adept in more than one fighting style.”

“Who the...hell are you…?”

“Glad you actually asked without reducing to begging.” Her eyes fell upon the group of men that surrounded the twosome in the middle. “I am Alias, a Meta Mercenary and your potential commander if you pass...oh, I have such bad manners, I’m sorry. Would anybody else want to try me?” She gazed around for a hand, but they kept to themselves, avoiding eye contact or giving her too much eye contact to not be picked. 

A gloved hand shot out from the sea of rookies and her eyes side-glanced at them.  **“I volunteer.”** The sea parted and her expression dropped faintly when the Arkham Knight walked out into the centre, the intensity thickening with every breath as the rookies realised two superior figures were about to spar. Considering how skilled they both were, they wouldn’t be surprised if there was a draw.  **“Hope you don’t mind.”**

“I’ll let you take your pick. Bladed or projectile?”

“Wait, what, you guys are gonna kill each other?!” A voice hollered somewhere behind the Knight and Alias stifled a laugh.

“As militia, you must be ready for changing conditions. But as combat specialists, you must be able to calculate your moves and your opponent’s before you encounter them. Your opponent could have a blade.” She made a fist with one hand and brought her other palm to it and, as if she was drawing out her blade from a sheathe, the icy cutting edge glistened into view. “Or they could have a gun.” The blade rested by her side as the Knight rolled back his shoulders but before they even took a step forward the Meta went down on one knee and flattened her palm on the ground. Ice moved as a dusty shockwave that slid across the ground and rose as glass once it reached the rookies. It scaled at least 10 feet and doubled back down as a secondary reinforcement before she straightened up. “Either way, you can either die or live. The decision is your attitude towards the encounters. But enough talk, you boys are here for a fight...right?”

And just like that the room came to life with whistles, chanting and clapping as the Knight and Alias kept their distance circling the space they were in, then she moved. She was quick, her blade singing ferociously as she swung for him and his gauntlets blocked her swings but realised his mistake when he went to grab for her. He grunted in surprise, his reaching arm stuck in her afterimage and he glanced to his left to get himself trapped in a 4-kick combo and Alias rolled backwards onto her feet whilst he was quickly recovering; ice had decorated the padded floor in violet confetti. Then he saw it, her eyes. They were filled with anger. The face underneath grinned; so she was still mad at him. No wonder he felt those hits.

He rolled his shoulders as they circled once again, Alias twisting her wielding wrist in an attempt to trick his judgement, and she found herself cutting bullets out of the air. On the last round she threw her sword at the Knight, who simply leaned out of the way, and managed to slap away her punches before reversing her roundhouse; he flicked her leg up and she ended up landing on her stomach, the wind being knocked out of her. Half of the rookies reacted to her impacting the padding while the rest cheered on the Arkham Knight's regained upper ground. Alias pressed her body off the floor but the Knight kicked her onto her back, his hand reaching for her throat like last time. But she wasn't under the effects of the fear toxin, and she had several moves she could pull off in her position. A shame he let his guard down. 

At once, she pulled her lower body off the floor, curled her legs around his bicep and, with the strength he thought she didn't have, flipped him and sent him sprawling to the other side of their restricted sparring mat. The rookies cheered for Alias this time as she steadily got up from one knee and dusted herself off, the Knight recovering just in time to let out a chuckle in his seated position.  **“You're not really giving me a chance, are ya?”** he tilted his head and reached behind him for his firearm.

“I mean I could, but you wouldn't take me seriously.” She gestured at his pistol, “Rubber bullets? Don't want to waste your ammunition.” 

**“Maybe.”** He pointed it at her and fired, the round encased in ice and rebounding off her shoulder.  **“But you wouldn't take me seriously.”** The Meta brought the hazy mist to her eyes and smirked as she opened her palms, complete replicas of his modified weapons dusting into view, and cocked them quickly.

“Unlike you, I don't have to reload. Perks of the job, I guess.” By now the entire room was betting who was gonna win the firearm-martial arts battle with some guessing the finishing move from both parties. Breaker, who was on a platform and able to see the spar amongst the sea of people, smiled at the spectacle. He could tell that Alias was venting her anger through this combat exercise, still upset at the Knight's ordeal, and had this weird feeling that she was gonna do something crazy. Knight specialised in many fighting styles and knew how to juggle them, but so was his leader, and they're both proficient at using weapons too. It was a pretty close prediction, but Alias seemed in the right mindset. 

After shooting bullets out of the air, countering each other's moves and reversing throws the Meta found herself in a tight sleeper hold and barred her teeth as he forced her on her tip-toes. Some of the rookies applauded his nearing victory whilst others encouraged Alias to fight through it, and the Knight brought his visor close to her ear.  **“You don't have to do this,”** he whispered.  **“Just...tap out.”**

“We both know, that I won't do that,” she wheezed and quickly juggled her options. He already knew her wall takedown and pulled her to the centre of the mat, and kept his base low in case she tried her ice wall maneuver again like last time. There was one thing she could try and do and she took one last breath before moving. Kicking both legs up she used his low base to her advantage and swung upwards for a moment, before coming back down and regaining her footing on the mat. But with her momentum still going she elbowed his gut and made him loosen the hold on her, and kept ahold of one of his arms. Just like she remembered her judo training, Alias brought him over her shoulder using her hip and the Knight slammed back-first onto the mat. Just like that. 

The room fell silent. A sword was pressed against his throat before the ambiguous man could even try to get up and Alias's supporters roared in triumph, both figures slightly panting as she finally reached down to help him off the floor and the barrier that divided the mercenaries from the rookies collapsed into cold, violet dust. “ **Not bad** ,” he told her, humour in his demonic tone, and she turned her head in annoyance as the hazy mist faded. 

“You just let your guard down because you knew my emotional state. I feed off my anger.”

“ **A bit melodramatic.** ”

“You were taught to suppress your emotions, I was trained to use it. I guess we really are different after all.” She moved away from the Knight and began calling out instructions the rookies followed instantly while Breaker cleared away the empty shells off the floor; after witnessing her floor someone who was heavier and possibly stronger than her, they knew that she wasn't to be tested. Rex materialised mid-step and nodded his head in respect as he past his leader and the Knight watched as Alias's face lit up. 

The face underneath frowned softly; the only person who...no. He swore at himself before striding out of the training hall, viciously tapping the button to call the elevator. It wasn't the time nor place. But he couldn't help but wonder.

What would a woman like her be doing in a place like this? 


	8. Sinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While disorder continued to rule over Gotham City, Alias initiated her own campaign; after confronting them with the Arkham Knight, she needed confirmation about the shadows that haunt her. Even until this day.

She had finished assigning the rookies with tasks to aid Operation: Saviour when she noticed the Knight wasn’t in the vicinity, and was strolling towards the elevator when Breaker provided information on his whereabouts. “He was called by Scarecrow to Stagg’s airships, Alias,” he said as she looked off her shoulder. “Something about a Cloudburst...maybe that has something to do with the fear toxin.”

“Simon Stagg, huh? A partnership gone south, that what it sounds like. Thank you for the update, Breaker, and please make sure that the rookies don’t mess up. I got enough on my mind as it is.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.” Breaker parted from Alias’s side to attend to his task when Rex forwarded her, a nod starting their side campaign. He offered his hand and she took it without hesitation and, before the elevator doors could open, he moved the two of them through reality fast enough that they let out a static shockwave when they appeared. They were back at the warehouse where the Knight and herself ran into Syndicate goons but by the pressure surrounding her hand, Alias knew the air didn't feel right.

_You'd expect the carpet to be how it was, with glass and your ice still here, but someone was here._

“You're not wrong, their heat signature still lingers. But it's more than one person. Five at most. Three stands out more for some reason.” The mist rose against her face and she examined the smeared colours within the room as she moved, identifying temperatures that were the same yet completely different. It danced mostly around the centre of the room, but some strayed up towards the ceiling and others against the wall. That was when she noticed the glass ceiling was intact. Strange. “Metas?”

_Yeah. In fact, I think I can display what they did in here._

She blinked hard. “You can do that?”

 _I may not be the strongest telepath, but Scarecrow did tell me to rig the place with psychic links after the incident. May I?_ She let the mist fade from her face and reluctantly forwarded Rex again, a soft smile on his face. He could feel the worry just by the look in her eyes but her brainwaves indicated something nestled deep within her mind that she didn't want to recall, and he held her shoulders. _I realised what you meant when you mentioned your abhorrence towards mind-control…_

Alias made an uneasy expression, “Sometimes I can't even trust my own mind. But I trust yours...show me.” He spun her around so that she was facing the centre and moved his hand towards her temple, before tapping it. Like a bubble of obscurity had suddenly been popped, Alias could feel his power running through her body and rushing along her skin. It was light yet violent, sounds and smells that she didn't experience rushing to her senses. She stepped back, overwhelmed by what was happening and felt Rex’s hands still on her shoulders.

Click.

Her head snapped to the door, a group of armed people dressed in padded black walking in with a woman in front. Alias watched as the woman walked up towards her before stopping short and crouching down to pick up a small cluster of violet ice off the carpet. This was what Rex meant when he rigged the warehouse; she was, essentially, living his memory. The woman examined it carefully before gripping it in her fist and standing, facing her bodyguards. “ _Get him in here,_ ” she informed one of them and they rushed to fulfill her order, her New Zealander accent sharp enough to cut her words. “ _The reports were right, she is alive._ ”

Alias furrowed her brows as the woman swore to herself, combing back her tousled blonde hair in annoyance, and attempted to understand who ‘she’ was. She was about to ask Rex what the hell she was seeing when she moved to get a better view but a shiver that melted down her nape stopped her. The man that was called into the room arrived with his dress shoes clicking with every step he made. He appeared different from the rest of them, dressed in a dark navy suit and slicked blonde hair the same shade as the woman's. Rex glanced at Alias, who was frozen on the spot, and paused his memory. She may have gaps in her memory about her past, but she could never forget the man who snapped it.

_Alias…_

“I know exactly who he is,” she muttered. “He's Taeyeon Sinclair.”

_Taeyeon? So he's Korean._

“He's also the founder of Syndicate, and the reason why I'm here. I swear, this guy makes me sick. He's a fluid Meta, a Meta with several abilities. A sadist at best...” She held her arms tight around her chest and Rex hesitated to continue the memory, Sinclair confronting the woman with a handsome smile.

“ _What's wrong, my dear Rhys? You're looking quite sour today._ ”

She showed him the cluster in her possession, “ _You care to explain this Tae, hm? Because it seems to me that your favourite mercenary is back on grid miles away from her last known location._ ”

“ _What, what are you talking about?_ ”

“ _Whose ice could this be? There's only one Meta who had purple ice―_ ”

“ _Alias is here?_ ” Sinclair chuckled in happiness, “ _My gorgeous, pink Alias is really here? But, how?_ ”

“ _That's something I'd kill to know. Care to explain?_ ”

“ _You think I brought her here? Why would I do that if she was recorded to be out of commission years ago? Rhys, you have to stop doubting me sometimes. You really put me on edge, especially when you make that cute face._ ”

“ _Are you honestly not getting how serious this is? A mercenary has not only escaped Syndicate, but has also managed to reanimate herself. Is this not processing in that silly mind of yours?_ ”

The suited man chuckled again, “ _You're so serious it's almost adorable. Of course I acknowledge the situation. I'm just not worried is all. Right now, she's with the Arkham Knight. The men on the ground are saying that she's actually stronger than before. Now she has this weird mist thing that amplifies her condition._ ”

“ _Mist? You mean she has access to Arcadia now?_ ”

“ _She might not even know who that is. A shame, actually. It's saved her life many times before, maybe it's inhabiting her body now and the Alias we know doesn't exist anymore._ ”

Rex shut down the memory right before Alias could tell him, a distraught look on her freckled face as she attempted to fathom what she just saw. Question upon question surged in her mind, adding to her already dark and scarred past. Why was Sinclair here? Who's...what is Arcadia? Were they being metaphorical about her ‘reanimation’, or literal? Alias brought the mist up once more to feel for a change in her abilities, but looked at Rex and realised where she was. She suppressed all doubts and allegations with a sigh, the mist fading in unison, and instead made a face of curiosity. Of course she could never hide her true feelings from a telepath, a psychic, but he knew he won't question her about what she just witnessed.

“Was there more that happened here? I know that Sinclair repaired the glass ceiling, but someone else came in here.”

_Yes. A man in blue and black ambushed Syndicate. Not a combat Meta but his skills were flawless, disciplined. Claiming to know you. He hid his face well, as well as mask his voice, so tracking him down would prove difficult, even for a telepath like me._

Alias shook her head, “There’s no need. He’s not the priority...Sinclair is, as much as the masked man does intrigue me. Is it possible to set a relay here?”

 _What...oh. A telepathic relay? Yes, I think I can manage that. It might put a toll on my mind and body, but if it’s to protect you...anything._ Alias peered at Rex softly as she wondered how she managed to find a guy willing enough to become her living shield and her sharpened blade. Even for a mute, Rex does talk a lot. She chuckled and walked over towards the blonde man, wrapping her arm around his bicep and hugging it momentarily.

“You really are something, Rex.”

“I am.” She jumped but it was too late, Rex’s hands wrapped tight around her throat and, with the strength he possessed, swept her completely off her feet. Alias wheezed against the pressure around her neck and fought against it, desperately clawing at his hand. Rex made a pleased expression and chuckled lightly, “Hello, darling,” he spoke, his voice much more smoother than she thought and projected via telepathy; he did move his mouth for decoration. “I see you’ve grown well. Very well... And your eyes...breathtaking...” She was unable to speak, his thumbs dug into her larynx with a strain that hurt like hell, and involuntary tears stung her eyes. “Oh? Crying for me? I thought I’d never see the day. It’s a shame your friend here is also naive with his ability, always leaving traces behind. I’m not just your nightmare, my Alias, I’m also your reality.” He finally let go when Alias threw him against the wall with a shot of ice, restraining his limbs and neck, although very uneasy and catching her breath in greedy gasps. The man did not react accordingly but instead marvelled at her quick thinking.

“Sinclair, get out of his body. Now. Or, I swear―”

“Swear what? That you’ll kill me? You’ve tried that already, don’t you have something new?”

“Okay,” she pulled herself off the floor and let the haze reach her face, Sinclair's once confident expression fading gradually. “I’ll let Arcadia kill you. Or is this what you call the mist? Honestly, it’s the reason why I constantly sense heat signatures whether I have it up or not. I know you’re not here, and I wished you were, but you rigged the place with your own psychic sigils didn’t you? That’s the only way you’d know I’d be back in here.”

“Smart girl. You were always my favourite.”

“Why are you here?”

“That’s my line.”

“Care to explain how you managed to find me?”

He gestured his head to the glass ceiling, “Your Arkham Knight in the sky. You were cloaked in darkness, until you became allies with the modern, slightly volatile man. And what a match you two are. Both broken at young ages and reborn into gods.” Alias looked away, all this poetry bullshit Sinclair spoke in really did piss her off but, as much as she wanted to kill him, killing Rex to do that was a very, very VERY bad idea. “Oh,” he broke Alias’s concentration. “Rhys is calling me again. That woman really does not like me, but I love her ruthlessness as much as I love your pink hair. Eventually, you will see me again and you will have to face me whether you like it or not.” The ice suddenly shattered and Alias unconsciously took a step back, fear rather than defense moving her limbs as the man who broke her mind inhabited the body who wanted to protect it, but she barred her teeth. Regardless of who it was, she had no other choice. “Starting now.”

An ice katana materialised in both hands and the mist dispersed in unison, Sinclair letting out a sound of cool surprise at her change in heart and brought out Rex’s energy sword. “Last chance.”

“Threatening me, are you? You do realise I’m in the body of a telepath. Should I demonstrate our times together again? All the pain you felt...it was always so nice to see you suffer. Your pretty face writhed in agony, your muscles convulsing at once, even the drool that you couldn’t stop falling past your rosy lips...haa. I wouldn’t mind another session...would you?” She shuddered. It wasn’t always people who could tear her walls like this can scare her, but even just the thought broke her down. But she stood tall, unfazed by his insults. “Not even an inch? Wow, Alias...you really have grown up. Unfortunately, I always save the best things for last. Until we meet again, my rose.” And just like that Rex’s body sank under Taeyeon’s psychic weight and Alias had to think fast to catch him and not stab him at the same time: the swords had just about dissipated as she stretched her arms out. With the unexpected weight she wheezed and collapsed onto one knee, whispering worry and anxiety at a lifeless Rex. She cupped his face, his heat signature barely hanging onto the silver of life in his body. He was there. Just about.

“Damn…I’m so sorry, Rex...I never meant to drag you into my past...I’m sorry…”

Alias pressed her forehead against Rex. She swore, she swore on her life that Sinclair wasn’t going to get away with this.


	9. Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drifting into the game's storyline Alias tags alongside the Arkham Knight to disrupt Batman's plans psychologically, or so it seemed.

Rex held out his hand for his frozen maiden as they walked behind the Arkham Knight, who was thoroughly pissed with Batman effortlessly breaking through his security protocols. First it's the radars, and somehow getting past the sentry guns, and now it was the missile launcher. The Knight wanted to confront Batman personally once again to add to his psychological bombardment, and Alias wanted a front row seat of what the caped crusader was really capable of. She had on a different silk cardigan, tight sleeves and the train that swayed behind her created by her delicate ice capabilities, and a sleeveless dress that complimented the Arkham Knight's colour palette with a slit that started from her right hip. Alias had a thing for wearing the same outfit all the time, so she wanted to spice things up. As long as she could fight in it, she wouldn't mind being naked.

"Rooftop's clear," the militia lieutenant told them from the top of the stairs. "Target is in the control room. Moving in to secure."

 **"Hold off, lieutenant,"** the Arkham Knight ordered as he climbed up the stairs to the control room, the pool of armed men and medics parting for him. **"He's mine."** When he reached the set of double doors he booted them open, not even vaguely surprised to find Batman not there. Alias hummed and walked ahead of the Knight, the misty blue haze cracking her face again as she felt the presence of him above her. Batman was silent, like a shadow, which made her even more excited.

"Where'd he go?" One of the militia supporting the power couple questioned out of reflex.

The Knight pointed to the computer, **"Raise the defence shields. Keep all access points covered."** Alias glanced out the window before her eyes watched a guy in red jog to the computer to fulfil his order, and sighed as she swayed next to him before pivoting on her heels and walking back again. Leaving the ambiguous man to relay information back to Scarecrow, she let her eyes roll up to the grates on the ceiling and raised a brow. She knew he was surprised with how she managed to find him, as almost everyone he's encountered barely looked up, and she flashed Batman a cute little wink before diverting her attention somewhere else. Nothing like besting your enemy with a wink.

And watching your enemy instantly down one of your allies from above and take down three more in quick succession. She grinned even more; that suit of his made him faster, lighter, quieter. But not colder, she could still detect his heat signature even under all that armour and black. The Arkham Knight waited patiently for Batman to finish and went for a punch that was deflected by a curl of the wrist, but also deflected a punch of his own and locked Batman's arm over his striking arm. Once the two had managed to pull off the exact same moves, and put each other in the same throat hold, Alias signalled Rex to start the car and flicked her curly hair back.

"Who...are you?" Batman groaned under the vice-like grip, feeling for the Arkham Knight's strength and applying a bit more pressure, the cloudy HUD to his visor becoming distorted.

But he simply chuckled and answered, **"Not yet, Dark Knight."** Pushing him back, he reached for his utility belt and brought out a gadget, pressing the button before a crimson, electric cloud was dispersed around him; Alias stayed behind with the rest of the militia, while Rex occupied the Knight back to his hideout. She abandoned the misty haze from her eyes and hummed again, bringing a hand by her face as a preparatory stance with the militia brute behind her adding to her carefree intimidation. If Batman can be intimidated, anyway.

"You think I'm scared of you, Batman?" Alias casually questioned the man in black. "No, I'm not. Because there are some fears that become something more...something cruel. Like you. A man clouded by his fears for so long that he becomes his fear. It's funny really. I'm just surprised you haven't tried to find me yet."

"And who are you?"

"I'm the same sensation you feel when your heart stops beating, your lungs stop taking in air, your brain activity slows down." She stretched on her tiptoes and yawned, fluffing back her voluminous hair. "But as fascinating as you are, I only wanted to observe you. I'll fight if I have to...but right now, there's enough bones crushed and skulls cracked for me to add to the count. Don't worry, I'll thank you later." Blowing him a timid kiss, she turned on her heels and couldn't even make a step towards the door without having to dodge to the left and snatch the Batclaw midair. Some of the militia let out surprised sounds, obviously new to Alias’s capabilities, and she looked over her shoulder with an irritated look.

"You're not going anywhere."

"I'm guessing you really don't know who I am. So let me kindly clarify." The Meta let go of the Batclaw and a dangerous blizzard danced around her from her glassy heels as she turned again to face Batman, her eyes burning violets against the misty haze. "I am Alias, the Meta Mercenary you couldn't even find back in Arkham City. I'm more, yet less human than every single individual in this room...I could freeze your heart without even trying. You want to know what death feel like?" Alias stopped in front of the masked man, having to look up in his eyes due to his incredible height, and tilted her head and let her fingers dance up his plated chest. "An empty vessel, void of life, of living. But, I promised something...whether you like it or not, Batman, your end is inevitable. I won't lay down the last strike, that you can guarantee, but I'll be there when your legend burns into insignificant ashes."

Batman suddenly grabbed her wrist, throwing it away from him just as the blizzard disappeared. "Play nice.”

"I see you have a charming sense of humour...surprising." Alias sighed as she swayed to the double doors, with one of the militia opening the door before her and she stopped for a moment, glancing off her shoulder to admire him once more. "I'll wonder how long you'll keep laughing, Dark Knight." Letting her eyes and the misty haze calm down, she walked down the stairs by the control room and, within seconds, heard the sound of flesh being struck and bones being cracked. She let out a disappointed sound; that was what she meant. Ten seconds, and there's already someone with a concussion or a broken wrist.

"Alias. Alias, do you copy?" The Meta blinked before bringing a hand to the earpiece, smiling at Rex who waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. I guess having a hidden Meta on your side was better than she thought. But she could see it in his expression, he was still shaken from what happened a mere 45 minutes ago. She wasn't gonna let Sinclair try and destroy her friends. Friends…

"I copy, Breaker. What's wrong?"

"The Arkham Knight has...well, he's..."

"What? Did something happen to him? What's the matter?"

"He's...he's in your room, at the hotel. He wants you here, like, now."

"Now, now?"

"Yes, Alias...now, now."

"Is there something wrong?"

"He won't say anything...but I think he's mad."

"And how do you know that? He doesn't have a face."

"He's...actually holding me at gunpoint, Alias. A-and I think I just pissed myself." Alias's face was a blend of confusion and shock, an expression Rex found strangely entertaining, and felt her hand tighten around his bicep.

"My room, Rex. The hotel." With a sharp nod, and a speedy manipulation of space and time, the couple found themselves in front of the door to Alias's room with the owner of said room bursting in first, an unimpressed frown cracking her features. "Seriously?"


	10. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alias's trust is tested when the Arkham Knight realises her convictions and the data in her file doesn't match, and wrings her through a small trial. But even as he carries her, the burning tinge at the centre of his chest doesn't seem to let up. Not even for a second.

"Seriously?" Was the only question that came to Alias's mind when she burst into her room. She didn't want to believe Breaker, but this made her reluctant about him telling the truth or not. But no, Breaker wasn't joking; he was sitting there in the most docile manner possible in the centre of her room, although the sheet of sweat on his forehead perceived otherwise, with the Arkham Knight aiming a pistol at his temple. "Knight, put the gun down."

**"Not until you tell me the truth."**

"What...what are you talking about? I have nothing to hide."

**"You're not breathing."** Alias froze, looking down at her chest and was surprised herself that her lungs didn't inflate and deflate like everyone else's in the room. She never really noticed that, since she could still breathe and having to remind the brain that the cells needed oxygen was a reflexive order. **"I've been watching you closely, Alias, and you're not breathing. In fact, you should be dead."**

"I-I don’t understand..."

**"I've got guys finding out who you are, everything about you...you really don't know who you are, do you?"**

"What are you―" Alias's sentence was cut short as a cold spray of water flew at her from behind, drenching her hair and back, and the Knight raised his head as she clambered onto the floor and struggled to breathe and her hair begun to kink up and curl in response to her absence of oxygen. She rolled onto her back as her face twisted and warped, her lips flushing a dark blue as her body begged for air.

**"You breathe through your hair, which is why you never let anyone touch it. It's an unconscious reflex that you never realised."** The Knight moved away from Breaker, who let out a quiet, shaky exhale of relief, to squat in front of Alias and see her hair be deprived of air, slowly dying light blue from the ends as if the locks were essentially becoming pale. **"You didn't know that, huh, did you?"**

"...S-sir," Breaker cut in, although he felt his opinion was going to get him killed but realised Rex wanted to step in. "You're gonna kill her." 

Alias reached for the Knight with wide eyes, her fingers curling around his calf as strength was drained out of her, her hair clinging to the salt that was present in the water. **"You're right."** The Knight clicked his fingers and the same militia that threw saltwater on her handed him a bottle of fresh water, the Meta gritting her teeth at the burning sensation as it was poured on her. She rolled again, onto her chest, shuddering as the kink to hair relaxed and was restored to its original colour.

"I...never knew...I was dead," she finally answered him, her voice as strained as her attempt to push herself off the floor and held up a weak hand in rejection when Rex wanted to help her up. "In fact...I only know...what they wanted me to know..."

**"You had severe pneumonia when Syndicate found you, which is why they altered your respiratory system."**

Alias had gotten off the floor and straightened up, losing her balance just when she found it and fell into a pair of muscular arms. Using them as support she steadied herself, her legs still shaking under her weight. "You say it...as if I wanted this to happen..."

He packed away his firearm, **"I never said you did."**

"But, just now...you lost your faith in me. You thought I...surrounded myself in lies...to hide myself away. So tell me..." She pushed herself off the blonde man and staggered towards the Arkham Knight, falling against his chest as her knees bucked under her. "Are you...just as broken as me?" The Knight only looked at her, unable to fathom a suitable reply as she collapsed onto him, the lack of oxygen her body was forced to endure causing her to black out. He didn't mean to put her through that, he wanted to prove something; before he let her fall he swept her off her feet seamlessly, putting her in the bridal carry with her head resting on his shoulder.

"Sir..."

Any excuse will do. **"...Breaker, I need you and Rex at HQ in 20. Start going through combat exercises with Charlie team until you know it yesterday."**

"But what about Alias? Is she gonna be okay?" He let his digital gaze rest on her face, so calm and content in contrast to the wet hair and clothes that stuck to her skin. And the face that was hidden underneath furrowed its brows. He didn't realise how different she was until now. Even when he made her go through all of that, he was expecting a punch or two or possibly even a bullet somewhere fleshy. But she didn't get mad, not even slightly upset. So why? Why didn't she scream out, try and rip out his throat? Why didn't she disarm him and just shoot his visor? Why didn't she, simply, kick his ass?

Because Alias was different.

**"She'll be fine. Just get to HQ stat."** Breaker, who was still shook about being held hostage against his own will by his superior ally, found it challenging to get up from his chair but with the help of Rex they blinked out of sight, and the lone henchmen in red and grey briefly nodded before leaving Alias's room.

For someone he intentionally wanted to put in her place, his mind was confused at the mixed emotions that sparked every nerve in his body, and it annoyed him; like he was being complimented and insulted at the same time. Before, when he would even be in the same room as Alias, all he wanted to do was floor her after she beat him in hand-to-hand combat in front of the Alpha team. Now, however, after spilling every feeling she knew to him, he saw a woman lost between revenge and solitude, lost in the wind and following its direction. A woman who didn't know the difference between living and living in death.

Alias was just as ambiguous as himself, which was why...which was why he didn't want to leave her. Wait. Wait, wait. Did he...did his mind just do that? The thing? The thing where, even though he hated her with a burning passion, he loved her just the same? Loved her? He...he loved her. He’d fight himself not to admit that but here he was, looking after her when he was the one who pushed her. Damn, she wasn’t persistent or desperate for love, she was searching for it somewhere inside the shell of a broken man. She’s somehow found it in him, and had greedy intentions to steal it off her so he could understand what it felt like, what it felt like to love.

He sighed, side-glanced at her king-size bed and sauntered over to it, gently placing her down on the mattress and attending to her heels that kept its lustre finish. Ice was a creative element, challenging the user to expand their imagination in all sorts of ways, and it took 7 seconds for Alias to make the heels and 23 for the train. She even was inspired enough to decorate his HQ in snowy banners, snowflake confetti on the floors and ice sculptures once upon a time; when he tried to melt one of the sculptures, being slapped with the fact that her ice couldn't change states without her telepathic consent was when he realised Alias was a force to be reckoned with.

She had shown the infantry, along with the Arkham Knight, that she can change the density and consistency of her ice at will, making it harder than diamond thanks to its unique structure, flow like water and still be able to freeze and can even form snow. Her defensive mechanism freezes anything that is made to kill her without her mind being able to come up with a tactic quick enough, and she wears light to non-existent clothing because, well, she's Alias. The infantry actually thought there was a reason, and they even laughed together about it.

Putting the heels against her bedside, he decided to sit on the bed for easier removal of her cardigan, and slipped off one sleeve before having to raise her upper body off her bed to successfully strip it off. Something sparked and the Knight brought up his hand, "Rex, is her battle suit ready?"

Rex had simply appeared with a faint pop with what the Knight asked for, accustomed to Alias's tastes, that displayed the side she was on; the Arkham symbol was brandished on the entire back. Once he was handed the suit and Rex winked before vanishing quicker than light, it took the Arkham Knight a good 5 minutes to replace the dress with the suit but took him a couple seconds to recall what he saw.

A distant memory adorned on her left hip in the form of a scar, the shape of an S with four numbers beside it: 0001. He was just pissed off because he didn't notice it until now and because he didn't take out Syndicate himself. Even so, they were back on-grid haunting Alias with poltergeists brave enough to try and not just take her out but him too. Batman’s first, Syndicate can wait for the apocalypse for all he cared.

He didn't take into account how speedily time moved past him and it sped up his movements, going through her bedside for a untouched IV catheter and carefully introduced it into the vein in her backhand, pulling out the needle subsequently. She had told him that if she were to black out unexpectedly, even though this wasn't unexpected considering, to fill her up with cryogenic blood to help her regenerate what was lost. Maybe that's why she was so careful, she didn't have a regenerative factor: a major weakness to many but at least she doesn't make it obvious. Fastening the catheter in place with a strip of tape the Knight joined the tip of the drip to the catheter and hung it on her backboard, the blue liquid already being sucked from the pouch, through the tube and into her veins.

Alias exhaled slowly, her chest falling as if her lungs were suddenly responsible for her respiration, and her glossy lips parted as she unconsciously moved her head to the side. There were some things the Arkham Knight couldn't understand, and one of them was lying in front of him. He made her cry, stretched her beyond her limit, even lied to her.

Almost killed her.

She wasn't just Alias. She was a woman who was driven onto the road of immorality, cracked and broken beyond recognition. Lost her unborn child, lost her future, lost her family. She lost everything. So why would she cling onto him, the Arkham Knight, a man who was also driven onto the same road? A man who was forced to drop his beliefs of humanity and change it into vengeance?

Vengeance. That was what she meant. Under her tears, she had told him something. **You weren't the only one Batman left behind.** The Knight stood up, she was there? Back at the Asylum? Batman...made Alias the same way he made the Arkham Knight.

Same story, different names.

He clenched his fists, festering anger wanting to rise up his chest and beat the everloving crap out of someone. It spanned throughout his muscles and flesh, burning him raw from the inside that his fists couldn't stop shaking. Someone he...cared deeply about...Alias was just as broken as him, and Batman was going to pay with his life.

**"Batman dies,"** he repeated his words again, letting it echo around the room, only with an edge of ferocity that added to his demonic tone. **"Tonight."**


End file.
